And it lingers
by TenTenD
Summary: The situation can never be looked upon from just one perspective. Angles and lines oppose one another as much as they complement each other. One-shots collection of different worlds and the the love that lingers. Thorin/OC
1. They Shine, The Diamonds

_i_

Lorena reached out towards her brother, tears filling her eyes. She watched the arrows pierce his chest and was helplessly standing by, unable to do anything. As a merchant's daughter she had never had cause to take up arms. Her town of origin was well guarded and The Shire seldom saw troubling things ahead. But now she was forced to witness the brutal murder of her family. How she wished they would have stayed home. She should have not insisted that they go trade in the human village. Lorena had not even thought that something like this could happen to them.

One of those vile creatures approached had set itself upon her father. Lorena closed her eyes and prayed. The moment the attack started she had been pushed deep in the cart, hidden amongst fabrics. Her father lay slain before her when she dared open her hazel orbs. Blood gurgled from the cut on his throat as the orc impaled the dying man a few more times. A tiny cry left Lorena's lips before she could stop it. The orc heard it and grinned evilly in her general direction. The beast spoke in its own tongue, cruel words and taunts. Its companion said something in agreement and both started towards Lorena.

However, before they could reach her, a rain of arrows fell upon them. Warriors poured in the clearing, cutting through the orcs at amazing speed. The massive bodies dropped to the floor, blood spilling out of open wounds and staining the emerald grass. As the noise stopped around her, Lorena jumped out of her hiding place, face red and eyes glassy. She climbed out of her spot and disbelievingly glanced at the body of her brother. Her hands automatically went to cover her mouth, she turned to her father, only to see him in much the same state.

"Father," she called, kneeling next to the corpse. "Brother," she tried again, shaking her sibling's shoulder. "Don't leave me." The words came as a pained whimper, her voice rising with the grief. "Don't go, please! Please!" A hand touched her shoulder, but she shook it off. "Daddy, wake up. Wake up, we have to go. Brother, please!" Her cries remained unanswered.

"They are gone child," a voice spoke fro behind Lorena. "There is no more you can do for them." The same hand clasped her shoulder forcing the girl to her feet. "We cannot stay here." At the uncontrolled sobs that left Lorena, the woman touched the Halfling's hair. "Your wound is fresh, child, but keep faith that you will heal."

The hobbit shook her head. She would not heal. How could she? Her father and brother had been taken away from her. How would she ever get past it? "You might have let me go with them. You should have just let me meet my end."

Golden hair fell in front of Lorena's eyes as the tall woman lifted her chin. "Forgive us, we could not save your family but you live and you will get through the worst. Give it time, child." Lorena sniffed, tears still falling. "Tell me, what do they call you?"

"Lorena," she answered simply. For the first time she registered that before her stood an elven lady. A graceful being of light, with shining hair and bright eyes the colour of the sky. "My lady," she added almost absently.

"I am Cuilwen, little one," the lady introduced herself, smiling kindly. "Come with us for we for the time being. We shall find someone to return you to your home."

"There is nothing to return to," the Halfling softly declared. "They were the only ones I had left of this earth. Now I am alone. Nobody's." Tears took hold of her once more. "Leave without me, my lady, for I shall find my own way."

Cuilwen's face turned to stone, cold determination dominating her fair features. "You shall come with us. I shan't leave you to fend for yourself. If you say none waits for you, then join us on our toad and you may settle down wherever you find your place." The lady brushed her finger against a tearstained cheek. "None are to be left behind."

In the end Lorena had to agree. It had been no lie that no one waited for her in the Shire. Her mother had died in childbirth a few years after Lorena had been born and the babe had not survived the night either. Father had not taken another wife and her brother had lacked the courage to engage the girl he liked in any sort of conversation. Lorena was a season shy of becoming an adult yet she was more interested in her book rather than social gatherings.

Hobbits were a convivial folk in their entirety. Of course there were the few odd cases that constituted the exceptions. Lorena was one of those few, crippled by her shyness. Once one got to know her she was great company but until that point she had the tendency of hiding from any sort of contact. If only for a brief moment the girl wished she had been different, made more friends. She would not be alone if not for her nature.

"I shall come with you," Lorena decided. Cuilwen bowed her head gently, the ghost of a smile passing along her lips.

"Sidhion," she called out to a fellow man of her kind, "kindly take the girl on your horse. She will be travelling with us."

The one called Sidhion bent to pick Lorena up. His hands completely encircled her waist as he set her upon his white steed. The horse nickered softly at the foreign weight on his back. "Do not be afraid," Sidhion tried to calm his new road companion, "Lairion is just surprised at your presence. He is not used to you yet," the elf added.

No words passed Lorena's lips. She was tired and consumed by her grief, she wanted nothing more than to lie down somewhere and close her eyes to an endless night. But the Valar would not let her rest yet, it seemed. She was alive, as much as it pained her, she was breathing; air filled her lungs and got expelled in a trembling breath. She was alive.

For many days she lived by the barest of contacts with the elves. Cuilwen tired her best to comfort the girl but it was no easy task with a wound so deep and new. Time would heal her. Sidhion did not fare all that well either. He tried getting the girl to speak but Lorena replied in clipping words to the questions she was asked and then fell silent. The only sounds she made were her cries deep in the night as nightmares tormented her in the dark hours. Blood invaded her dreams nightly and the horror did not leave her even in the light of day.

Gone was the first week of her stay with the elves when they decided something had to be done for her. She was barely eating and her body weakened as her soul sunk into a fading state. Lorena had no desire to live yet her heart continued to beat in her chest. They tried everything they knew of but the ice in her hazel eyes was there to stay as was the bareness of her soul. The void inside of her grew and grew.

"All my loved ones are gone," Lorena said suddenly, one sunny morning, as Lairion trotted over grassy plains. "I thought that the world was ending when I saw it. I thought that my world was done for. But you know, the following day the sun still came up in the sky, the wind had not stopped blowing and I was still breathing."

"You are stronger than even you know," Sidhion told her seriously. "What happened to you is most unfortunate and had it been one of my soul sisters they would have not survived it. But you did. You pulled through the ruins. I think your father and brother are happy for you right now."

"Have you lost any of those you held close to your heart?" Lorena asked, her voice flat, devoid on any emotion. "You do not have to tell me if you do not wish it."

"Nay," Sidhion answered, "I am one of those with a kind fate. I have yet to lose any of those I cherish."

"Good." She shifted atop Lairion before adding, "Keep them close and try to enjoy the time you have with them."

As if the ice had cracked, Lorena started making small talk every now and again. The elves could see something had changed in her. It seemed that she had made her peace with the deaths around her. No power could make things any different and she had to live with that. Her shoulders would forever sting with the burden of being partially responsible. In her mind, Lorena thought that it was at her insistence that they left the Shire. How could the pained daughter know that her father and brother would have left anyway even if she had not been as adamant?

"Learn to forgive yourself and the ghosts haunting you will slowly disappear," Cuilwen advised sagely. The blonde haired elf looked upon Lorena with no small amount of fascination. "Do not give up while there is breath in your body."

"Does it help?" Lorena wondered out loud. "Does it really make a difference whether I keep my faith or not?"

"Without faith we are nothing," Cuilwen stated firmly. "Outside of it we are barren not only in body but in mind and soul as well. The Valar watch upon us and we owe them our devotion."

"Be it as you say." The hobbit inclined her head in thought.

Elf and Halfling rode along the line, the start of something between them.

_ii_

Golden wheat shone in the bright day light. The sun combed the fields with its rays, the road winding in front of the travellers. Wide open space spread out like a whole world waiting to be discovered. The frost had gone as summer pushed against the white lady of cold halls. The air itself was laden with the scent of renewal, sky painted in the colours of life. Mixed energies danced all around, new life springing forth from the fertile soil, and old beings were awakening to a cycle they knew so well. Lorena inhaled deeply, letting everything wash over her.

"It is good to see you smiling," Cuilwen claimed, eyes shining brightly. "It suits you very well."

Lorena face regained its expressionless state, her hand travelling to the sword at her side, "I do not smile. You eyes are playing tricks on you, my lady."

"That cannot be," Sidhion intervened in an amused voice, "my lady had the best eyes you shall ever find."

"Apparently not," countered Lorena dispassionately, "she thought me to smile." Despite her words a small grin made her lips curve.

"I must say that you are indeed smiling," the male elf noted without any gravity.

"Oh no, my image will be ruined." The grin on Lorena's face only grew. "What will the world say now?"

"That you are a sight to behold when in a jovial mood," inferred the she-elf.

Over the course of the seasons she spent with them, Lorena had formed a special friendship with the Lady Cuilwen and Lord Sidhion. The two were aunt and nephew but most would suppose them sister and brother. This stemmed from the fact that when together they tended to act as children would. Lorena was pulled into their game quite unwillingly. In time however they grew on her. No longer was she alone in the world. They became an undivided trio, getting into all sorts of situations together. Her new family she loved to bits, Lorena had no idea what she would have done without them.

"Sweet Eru," the brunette complained mockingly, "someone help me be rid of you. Hoodlums! Look at you pestering a defenceless maiden."

"Are we to understand that you are as excited as us then?" Cuilwen dared her with a sharp look. "You seem to be."

Both elves laughed at her less than ladylike gesture. Lorena resumed her neutral appearance. Although she had started healing, the process was a small one with many hitches along the way. There were times when she could barely manage a small curl of her lips and the there were days when she even laughed. They had long agreed upon taking everything in strides. But fate had other ideas.

From behind them a terrible sound came, with it a flood of memories for Lorena. "Orcs!" she screamed, recognising the growls and harsh sounds. Her heart had already started beating erratically in her chest and fear filled her to the brim. Orcs, again. When would she ever escape this nightmare?

Those of the group that could fight had taken up arms. It was not long before, stamping through the grass, the enemy was upon them. They fought bravely, they thought hard but the orcs were many. The odds were against them. Lorena relieved the blinding terror, the petrifying fear. Many were lost. Many lay dying on the earth. But with great effort they somehow managed to drive the attackers away. In their wake a field of blood and wounds remained.

"Lorena, come here!" Cuilwen yelled from her spot next to a injured Sidhion. "Press on the wound."

"It's no use," whispered Sidhion, taking a shallow breath, "It's no use. I'm not going to make it."

"Don't say that. You'll be fine," Lorena encouraged him, trying not to let the doubt creep into her voice. "We'll be fine. You promised me. You promised." He still had so many things left to teach her.

"Mellon nin, forgive me. Let me go with your blessing." His eyes closed. "My dear aunt, farewell."

"Don't call me that," Cuilwen said in barely a murmur, choking on the sadness in herself. "Eru, I leave him in your care. May his sleep be restful."

"Valinor awaits him." Lorena bowed to place a kiss to the elf's forehead. "He fought bravely, his place is amongst warriors." He had been young. But those young and deserving were the first to go.

The she-elf took a moment to wipe her tears away before nodding. Her nephew was now gone. "I understand your pain a little better now."

"I wish you didn't have to," Lorena confessed shortly after, "I wish no one had to feel any of that pain."

"Such is the way of our world," came the immediate reply. Had there been acceptance in her voice?

"What are we doing now?" Lorena inquired. They needed to find shelter and some time to regroup. They could not do so on the road, not with the massive loss they had just suffered. "Do you have a plan?"

"Don't I always?" Cuilwen sarcastically delivered. "We are close to a dwarven city. Durin's folk lives in these parts. They trade with elves often enough; they will not refuse to aid us, I am sure. We shall make haste to Erebor."

"Erebor?" the Halfling let the name roll off of her lips. She played with the word in her mind. "I have read that it is one of the richest dwellings of dwarves."

"It is the riches," the elf assured her, "you will see when we reach it. What dwarves lack in elegance they make up with jewels and fine metals. Come, you will be riding with me."

They buried their dead, a silent funeral among damp earth and young plants. Lorena stood next to the Lady for the whole duration of the procession. Her face implacable for she could feel the sorrow emanating from all those around her. She had been like this too and it seemed that she would not be allowed to move on.

A gust of wind carried the scent of blood away.

_iii_

Thorin regarded his father in silent worry. Thrain, however, was looking upon the King. Thror had his attention on the graceful creature curtsying and offering him her well-wishes. The elven Lady was travel weary but no less radiant. Her gold tresses shone in the dim light and twin pools of azure glowed, she was a feline assured in her power and not afraid to use it.

"Many thanks, King Under the Mountain. We are grateful for your kindness," Cuilwen said the customary words and bowed once more. The she-elf hid a bitter smile.

"There is no need to thank me fair mistress." Thror stroked his beard, contemplating what he had just found out. If orcs lurked so close by he would need to send out scouts. "Feel free to roam wherever you wish once you are revived. You will be shown to your rooms."

And that was when he saw her. At first he was tempted to think her a child of the travellers, however upon further inspection she seemed less and less like one. The woman, young and slim, was no elf no matter how close in looks they seemed with their similar frames and pointy ears. She was smaller than the average dwarf and perhaps half the weight of one. Cinnamon hair hung in a curtain down her back, framing a sweet face with deep hazel eyes and full lips.

Momentarily her gaze caught his. She seemed unaware, deep in thoughts and far away from what went on around her. One of the eleves slowly touched his hand to the crown of her head, snapping her out of the trance. The woman looked up and nodded. She eyed the Lady with concern as if waiting for something to happen. Perhaps she was thinking about the losses he mistress had suffered or maybe she was a kind soul felling for all.

Lorena had the impression that she was being watched. Instinctively she moved closer to the elf closest to her. The feeling persisted. She turned around and was hit by a pair of cloudy eyes examining her. Lorena's face flushed bright red at the scrutiny but she did not turn away. What did he find so fascinating, as to watch her so, she wondered. Albeit unsurely, she inclined her head in a silent greeting. It was only the right thing to do. He was an important person if the grandeur of his clothes spoke for anything, not to mention the air he exuded.

Left to her own devices, Lorena cleaned herself thoroughly before deciding that sleep would not come to her. A walk would suit her well, she thought. Without wasting a moment she pulled on a simple dress and dashed down the hall. Cuilwen's words still ringed in her ears. Upon entering the dwarven city under the mountain she had been blown away by its aspect. The Lady had not exaggerated when speaking of the riches in the mountain.

Now Lorena had the chance to explore. She trailed along the corridors, eyes opening to admire and file away memories. She would likely not have such an opportunity again. Tiny fingers touched the wall, felling every indent and bump, marvelling at the structure. Who would have though it possible for such things to exist? "Beautiful," she murmured, palm splaying out on the wall. "So beautiful."

"I see you appreciate our work," someone spoke, startling the girl. She turned around in a rush. "Easy now, it was not my intention to frighten you," the unknown man said.

This was the same one who had watched her in the throne room. It was the dwarf whose eyes were a brewing storm. She looked around, none was here beside them. "I suppose I do, it is like nothing I have ever seen." She did not smile, nor did her face betray anything but cold politeness.

"Perhaps you would like me to show you around," he suggested, his stare not breaking. He too hid behind a polished mask. The dwarf held his hand out.

"If I am not keeping you from doing anything of importance," Lorena trailed off hesitantly, "I would not wish to impose." Her arm looped through his. Eru, was he tall compared to her! She could barely reach his shoulder. For one of his kind he was exceptionally tall. "How rude of me. I am Lorena."

A smirk presented itself upon the stranger's face. So she really had not been paying attention. "My name is Thorin." He waited for her reaction and was not disappointed. Inexpressive eyes were lit by a spark of both interest and doubt. "I take it you had not paid much attention in the throne room."

Her face reddened slightly, "No, I must confess that I did not." Lorena gingerly released his arm from hers, pulling away. "Forgive my rudeness." She bowed low. "I must go now." With that she turned and ran away, over the length of the halls and to her rooms, leaving the prince behind.

Far from being upset or negatively affected Thorin considered her reaction to him. She was an interesting one and would be staying for some time. He would use the time wisely. Touching his arm, where Lorena's had been, the spot tinged pleasantly. This was just the tip of the iceberg, Thorin was sure. He would satisfy his curiosity in the days to come.

Footfalls sounded behind him. Thorin turned to find himself looking at his father. Thrain put a hand on his son's shoulder, deliberately adding pressure to his hold. "I have sent your brother to scout for orcs. Should he find any trail of them he will report back to you."

"Yes, father," Thorin agreed quickly, his mind not on the problem.

"You are not to be distracted. I want you to be careful, son. This is important," Thrain continued undeterred. "Your grandfather is also counting on you. Do not forget that."

"I have not forgotten it for one moment," the prince gave his word. "Nor do I plan to do so." But his mind was already taken by the image of Lorena running away, dress trailing after her in a flow of material.

From that moment on Thorin used every free minute to be in her presence. She was private person whose smile was never one of happiness. Her lips curled in amusement, but her eyes never shined with true joy. Full lips stretched in an armour of sorts, a defence mechanism. A beautiful sight that lacked genuineness, stunning in the anguish it brought to his heart.

Lady Cuilwen was a useful source of information. She told Thorin what she knew of the girl, an encouragement. "I want to see her find the place that had been meant for her." Knowing eyes analyzed his reaction. She was waiting.

"Leave her in my care," Thorin proposed. "Should she accept, a new life awaits her here."

Those words were enough for Lorena to be called upon to the Lady's chambers. Thorin waited for her with baited breath. Would she say yes? The tiny woman entered, her ever-present neutral expression firmly in place.

"Come, Lorena, sit by me," Cuilwen bid her, opening her arms in invitation. "I need your opinion on something."

Empty eyes fixed themselves upon Thorin. "How may I be of help?" She had not asked what business the prince had there. Long since her arrival he had chased her about, she was not at all surprised to see him here thus.

"Tell me, mellon nin, do you like it here?" the elven female asked.

_iv_

The dwarven maids fussed about Lorena, arranging her dress and placing ornaments in her dark hair. In the mirror, a face she did not know. Lorena stood in awe, staring at her reflection. She could not believe it was her. Intricate braids, rosy lips and cheeks and a white dress, gems and golden chains on silk. The customary white flowers. It was a dream, she reckoned.

Only, it wasn't. No, this was no fantasy. She was really being prepared for her own wedding. If her father and brother could see her now, what would they say? Hazel eyes glided over the double. All the way from the tiara to the ends of the dress that pooled at her feet.

Her women incessantly chattered, offering her compliments and well-wishes. The braver ones gave advice; they were often of the married variety. One or two they were. The others were maid, too young to marry but old enough to be of help. Lorena took everything in silently. She thanked them for their advice and help rather cordially; she put it down to nerves.

She stepped out the door on spindly legs. Her head was spinning, she was dizzy. A maid kindly supported her. "Thank you," Lorena managed to say. "Thank you." She took a deep breath and straightened her back. "I shall manage from here." And then she was on her own. Slowly but surely she traversed the stone road, her light boots still a novelty. One could hardly remain unaffected by the chill of the stone. Lorena walked on, ignoring the frenzy in her mind. She concentrated on maintaining her pace and taking steady steps.

All the blood had fled from her face by the time she reached the throne room. Behind her the dwarven maids walked slowly, plying to her rhythm. Every eye in the room turned to her when she appeared in the doorway. The massive entrance made her feel smaller than she already felt. A queasy feeling settled in her stomach. In her mind she begged the gods above to keep her from passing out or doing anything of the like. Not on her wedding day.

Wedding, she let the thought roll in her mind. She was practically marrying someone she barely knew. Thorin knew little of her too. How would this work out. Cuilwen had persuaded Lorena to accept, highlighting all the advantages of such a union. And she had accepted. There was no turning back now. Her fate had been sealed the moment that words of approval left her lips.

Thorin had given her such a sincere smile that for a moment she thought it might actually work. Then, as if a bucket of ice cold water had been splashed on her, she remembered that her destiny was not a generous one. It was not in the cards for her to be happy and enjoy something. The moment she got attached, everything would be taken from her. With that thought in mind, she steeled herself against her future husband and his charm. For he was without doubt a man she could have easily loved if things were different.

A vision of white was what Thorin saw. The woman he was about to marry moved smoothly, elegantly towards him, all his senses of high alert. He would be hers and she would belong to him in a very short while. For the life of him he could not place what went on with his being. His only wish was for the ceremony to end so he may uncover her veiled face and look in those eyes that haunted his dreams, asleep and awake, wherever he was. It gnawed at him, the need to see those deep pools and her soul in them. She was dangerous, with those breezy movements and tight-lipped smiles and the walls she erected around her.

He wanted to break her shell, Thorin thought as she stood beside him, both turning to Thror. The King officiated the ceremony with all pomp and gravity befitting the heir of his line. The dwarven prince wished he could see his bride's face, gauge her reaction. The vows passed his lips clear and strong as he pledged himself to her before all those gathered in his grandfather's halls.

Words that she had learned by heart flowed unchecked, her mind a thousand miles enough. Lorena was back home in her mother's warm embrace, fending off her brother's hair pulling and pattering along the wooden floors with a beer for her father. Her heart broke just a little. Barely, just barely, she could feel her lips moving and the voice, a stranger to her own ears, rang out in her head. Comforting arms dropped her and her brother vanished along with her father. Thorin stood in front, a pillar ready to support her, the man willing to catch her if only she would trust him. Bit by bit her covering was lifted, gradually exposing her face to the torchlight.

The soft light of the torch caressed her face as Thorin's eyes took the sight in. He watched the sparkle in her gaze and the red of her lips in a straight line. She was a statue in front of him; nothing seemed to move her for one endless moment. Neither did he for that long instant. Then, as if shaken awake, he leaned in. Almost imperceptibly her lips parted and he drew closer. Her warm breath on his lips and the sweet scent of flowers, he paired their mouths in a brief kiss. A brush of lips to satisfy the custom, a drop in the ocean to what he really needed from her. She had stiffened under his ministration but did not pull away.

It was over all too soon. She had just been getting used to it, the feeling, when he broke the kiss. A wave of regret flowed through her. It must have shown in her eyes for Thorin lifted the corners of his mouth.

Thror bade them kneel. A light tiara, of gold and precious stones, was placed atop her head while Thorin was given a heavier looking crown suited for the prince. Lorena let the foreign weight skin into her. She was the bearer of responsibilities now. She was to be of help to her husband, shoulder the hardships of life alongside him, give heir and he was to provide for her, see to her happiness and give her children to rise. "Rise, Prince of Erebor, rise, Lady-wife and go to your husband's side."

A collective cheer travelled the room. The dwarven noblemen and ladies loudly greeted the newlyweds. Some threw blessing their way and others made allusions to what was to come, more or less innocent and respectful. Out of all these Lorena caught best the one that made her flush bright red to the roots of her hair. A gruff voice had asked, without an ounce of shame, whether the bride would break in half or not upon the consummation of the marriage. "Are you sure she won't remain impaled, small thing she is?" Laughter bubbled on the lips of the guests at the crude question; none seemed the least bit offended.

"Wiser heads than mine would council caution," Thorin replied with a sly smile, one arm encircling Lorena's waist, "but I assure you that my wife is no glass sprite. Shut your mouth least she feels challenged."

"Aye, Master Dwarf," Lorena spoke up attracting the attention of all, "you see, I have no choice but to be strong. Otherwise dealing with you men would be next to impossible. Ask any woman and she will tell you so." The females tittered merrily in agreement.

"A witty one. A treasure you got yourself!" yelled someone from the crowed. "Have a care or some may take it into their heads to steal her away."

Before any could add to the already growing loudness, a figure stepped in front of Lorena. The woman, for she was a female, was not unknown to her. Dis, sister to Thorin and daughter of Tharin, smiled at her sibling's bride. "Be welcomed to the family, sister" she said, wrapping her arms around the sister she had just gained.

"I feel most welcomed," Lorena assured the princess, tentatively returning the hold. Her father-in-law stepped up, placing a symbolic kiss on top of her head, a sign of acceptance.

_v_

Well into their cups, and later during the celebration the guests were fit to be left on their own to make merry until the sun rose. Lorena had danced a few formal dances with her husband, hesitant and unsure but lightheaded enough to let her dead stay buried. In contrast Thorin had held her firmly, guiding her steps with practiced ease. For the first time in a long time, Lorena let herself go completely. If only for one night, she told herself, she wanted to be happy with her husband, she wanted to be like any other girl excited about her marriage. All thoughts of disaster she drove from her mind.

Drums pounded in the room still when Thorin's hand glided up her arm, all the way to her elbow. She looked at him with wide eyes and slowly nodded. Through hidden tunnels they slipped away; just the two of them in a dark place, all alone. The hand on her arm fell to her midsection and then to her lower back. Lorena shivered at the contact, bumping her side in Thorin's without intent. Excitement mixed with apprehension washed over her and she was suddenly grateful for his support, otherwise her feet would have given way to the onslaught of feelings.

He knew these roads like the back of his hand. Thorin deliberately walked slowly through the darkness, enjoying his opportunity to tease her. A lingering touch here, a slide of fingers there, and the ghost to a sweet kiss to her hair along with a momentarily tightening of his embrace.

Dim light shined in her eyes, enabling her to see his face. His eyes were burning, a silent cracking fire that seeped through her bones, emanating heat all through her. Lorena's chest ached in a odd way that was equal part pain and pleasure. Perhaps it was the anticipation. Or maybe the wine. But she wanted him to lean closer in and take her mouth like he had done in front of the crowd. The hobbit rose to her tiptoes, arms curling around his neck, trying to pull him in; to make him understand what she wanted from him at the moment.

The spark in her stare and the set of her mouth were the only things Thorin needed to get her message. Head leaning in, he tasted the wine on her lips. Instinctively she anchored herself to him as his hand splayed on the back of her heck, angling her head. Mimicking his movements, she quite enjoyed the growl her touch generated. Even more when her frame was crushed against his bulk. She felt safe, here in his arms. Safe and cherished; and she would not trade it for the world. Strong fingers dug into her sides, extracting a pleasured shiver from the maiden.

While their advancement was by no means hurried they reached the doors of his bedchamber, his bedchamber Lorena reminded herself, all too soon. Thorin let her go and she almost whimpered at the loss but caught herself. Her suffering was not long for he only opened the doors and hoisted her up in his arms. They passed the threshold and she was in unknown territory.

Thorin placed her back on her feet and turned to close the door. They thudded with a sense of finality. Lorena licked her dry lips, suddenly unsure what to do with herself. She was saved from having to make such decisions when Thorin turned around and approached her. Like the deer that knew it was prey to the wolf, she slowly retreated as he moved forward. The bed stopped her withdrawal.

Deftly, the man removed the pins holding her veil. White fabric flowed to the floor with no sound. Lorena's hair had also fallen down her back, over her shoulders, a mix of braids and free streaming tresses. Gentle eyes searched his face for something and small came to rest upon his chest, shyly loosening the clasp of his cloak.

"Are you afraid?" he asked, more of a murmur in the room that was holding its breath.

"You don't scare me," she answered. But she was, deathly fearful. What could she do to stop her heart from warming at the sight of him, at the sound of his voice? "I have nothing to fear." Words said only to convince herself.

A strange smile lit his face, "Whereas I," he trailed off, fingers gliding over her cheek and under her chin, lifting her head.

She could not make out what he meant and had no need to ponder it any further as his lips crashed hers, blunt and vigorously. It was nothing like the official kiss, a feather on her lips, nor was it like the teasing pecks shared in the hall, full of play. No, this kiss was the mark of his conquest and she the willing captive.

Little by little, piece by piece she came apart under his hands. Beaded silk and gemstones crashed to the floor, white to black and the light went out. She could swear the bed had swallowed her whole, feeling amplified by the perceived weight of Thorin on top of her. A shallow breath was all that she released as warm lips and rough beard buried in the crevice between her shoulder and neck. Slow movements stoked the fire in her and as she grew braver her fingers tangled in his hair.

They were a tangle of limbs drowning, sinking into desire. Hands eager to touch, fingers itching to discover, mouths hungry for a taste but most of all heart longing for affection. The night was theirs, these precious hours they could use as they will to learn each other inside out, all the nooks and crannies. And study they did, a listless, gratifying and ardent pursuit of knowledge in the skin of the other, on moaning lips and sleek skin. And it was never quite enough. Once more, and then again, until they were consumed; and finally lethargy settled in.

The world was rebuilding all around her as Lorena sucked air in ravenously. Her lungs hurt; her throat was going to smart come daylight. But another kind of throb pulsated through her, a kind of pleasant ache deep in her flesh. The head that rested on her shoulder moved to deliver a flurry of kisses from her collarbone to her breastbone, feathery tokens of satiation. Blunt nails lazily traced lines across his broad back.

Thorin moved away so they would settle comfortably. His lover bemoaned the loss of contact with a sigh of protest, fingers automatically curling to his shoulders to keep his still. He chuckled at her attempt, languidly pulling her along. She pushed into his side, her arm draping over him, tenderly playing with a thin braid. The steady beat of his heart lulled her to sleep.

The dwarven prince however could not find his rest. He was exhausted and sated down to his bones but his eyes refused to close, to leave her alone for one moment in the shrouding dark. His mind replayed every little detail, how she back arched and how her voice sounded when aroused, the flush that would creep over her skin and the bone melting sensation of her wrapped around him. But brightest of all was her smile, that carefree curving line of her mouth that had his heart doing cartwheels.

Absently he caressed her exposed form, hand sliding over white, chilled skin, gently winding undulations and easy dipping valleys; places his lips had touched, where his fingers had stroked. Thorin kissed his sleeping wife, a press of lips to her forehead, chastely. He closed his eyes and held her firmly to him.

Hours later, Lorena woke up to the feeling of something warm tightly pressed against her. Confusion simmered through the veils of sleep. Her hand came in contact with hard muscles, startling her. Hazel eyes opened in quiet inquiry and memories flooded her, images violently attacking her sleep-fogged mind. A strong blush tinged her skin at some particular recollections that she recalled with startling clarity.

Her husband slept heavily at her side, face relaxed in his rest. She could hardly believe he was the same man that she had given herself to a short while ago. Curiously, she traced a finger along his naked arm, putting her head back on his chest. She could only pray that it would last.

_vi_

Rusty leafs turned to darker dead hues on the ground. A rug of brightly coloured vegetation covered the once grassy hills. The grey skies spoke of a brewing storm, but the clouds dared not let their tears fall. Not on this day.

The cold gaze of her husband rested on her, his face void of emotion; Lorena stared back all the same, even though it scared her to see him like this. Word was that the King had fallen ill and none were to see him. Her husband and her father-in-law were the only ones who now entered Thror's chamber, and much of their time was spent there. But that was not Lorena's problem. Thorin was slowly detaching himself from her and the woman had no idea what to do. They stood in the hall, not one word spoken between them.

It had happened after the first Durin's Day that the King had succumbed to his sickness. A strange affliction it was; not even the doctors could tell what was wrong. Thorin started spending more and more time there. And the distance between them grew. No longer were the night filled with warmth and comfort. Instead she would go to sleep on her own and wake to find him gone, although his bed side had been slept in.

"I do not have the time to quarrel with you woman," he raised his voice, eyes flashing in anger. "We will talk when I return."

"Don't bother! You never have time for me anymore, anyway," she accused in a bitter voice. "Just go wherever it is that you want to go!"

"Mahal! Wife, I did not mean to rise your ire," he offered in apology at the hurt expression of her face. "Nor was it my intent to make you feel neglected."

"Then why are you never here?" He looked away, refusing to let their stares make contact. "What are you not telling me? I want to help you, but I can't if you won't just tell me. Tell me!"

A sardonic smile appeared on his features. "I have business to attend to wife. We shall talk of it some other time. The King is waiting."

Exasperation registered on her face. He had been doing this for months now, evading her questions, sometimes simply refusing to answer. A shadow had fallen between them and she was trying her best to remove the space between them. "Fine," she replied, nodding her head. She was so tired; there was no willingness in her left for this fight. "I wish you a good day, husband."

The swish of her skirts was the only sound as Lorena walked away. She could not seem to get past his coldness and it drove her stir crazy. What reason would he have to avoid her? He could not be that busy; he had not been before. Perhaps the King's illness was taking its toll on her husband. Lorena could understand that he was worried but that did not mean she would just stand by and watch the rift between them touch epic proportions.

Nausea hit her unexpectedly. Her hands clasped over her mouth as she tried to control it. After a few moments she took a deep breath, her hands sliding down. The pounding in her head grew louder. Lorena closed her eyes in frustration. She had to do something about that too. All this stress was weakening her to the point where her body had started reacting.

With slow and deliberate steps she walked to the Master Healer's place. The dwarven woman ushered her in, insisting that she should have called upon her. "What ails you, my Lady?" the kind woman asked her.

"I am unwell, I fear." Lorena sat on a stool. "I cannot describe these past few months as anything but hectic. This weariness is bringing me harm. I have started being unable to keep down food very well. Just now, I almost lost my meal."

"Has this been going on long?" the Master Healer inquired, pulling Lorena's hand to her and rising the sleeve up.

Thinking, Lorena bit into her lip. "Perhaps a moon cycle or so," she approximated. "Do you think-" the words died on her lips as soon as the though took form in her head.

"It is very probable. Your pulse is doubled by another one," she explained. She felt said pulse for a few more moments. "Yes. That is it. Your body is indeed taut. My advice is to let all that you hold into your heart go, my Lady. Otherwise the life within you might be affected."

The life within her? Tears welled in her eyes. Lorena nodded in compliance and stood up. "Thank you, Master Healer. I shall leave you to your business now."

"My Lady," the other woman offered, leading the Prince's wife to the entrance. "May the stars shine their protection upon you."

"I pray that keep you as well," Lorena responded, exiting and placed a hand upon her abdomen.

A life? Her mind tried to take the information apart. Inside of here there was a little seed, an inkling of love. This was proof; this was proof that the gods had meant this to be her fate. They had wanted her to meet the wonderful man she loved so very much. "I won't give up," she decided. For her child, for her own happiness and peace of mind, she would not let Thorin slip through her fingers.

vii

She was burning hot underneath him, like a blazing fire, devouring him. Thorin buried his face in her neck, kisses spilling over her sensitive skin. Lorena moaned softly, digging half-moons into his back. He bit down just as she dragged her nails down his back. The heat of her was burning him, in a sweet and slow, torturous pleasure. Thorin inhaled her scent, the perfume intoxicating, numbing him to everything but her. His lips soothed the bruise on her neck and she released a sigh of pleasure under his ministration. Lorena rolled her head back, hazel eyes closing as the feelings consumed her.

Thorin grunted quietly. How he had missed this! Holding his woman and loving her. She was his home and he had been gone for far too long. Reverent lips trailed a path from her shoulder to her chest. His wife arched underneath him, hungry for the contact. Mahal, her passion would drive him wild one day, Thorin thought, happily losing himself in her pliant body. Duty had stopped him for too long a time from enjoying her company. The dwarven prince shook the thought from his head. He was with her now. Ravenous fingers explored smooth expanses of flushed skin.

He could hardly believe she had waited for him. Thror was growing weaker and weaker, and his son and grandson had the duty to watch over him. How Thorin wished to trade places with his younger brother, so he may have more time for his wife. She had accused him of neglecting her. But it was not of his own will. If she could he would have much liked to share her bed every night and damn the consequences. However he was duty-bound. He had missed her just as much as she felt his absence. He would often return to find her sleeping, covers curled around her, on his side of the bed.

Words of love, words of worship passed his lips into her flesh, a mark on her soul. Lorena was beyond thinking. She took everything in, absorbing it like a paper did ink. Her lips whispered a broken chant, something that sounded like his name. But she barely had any voice left, her throat raw by that point. Thorin smirked into her chest. His hands glided over her unclothed form, a breath away from touching her but not quite relieving her discomfort. A sound of frustration ringed in his ears. "Thorin," she hissed, "please." And that was all it took because Thorin himself could no longer suffer it.

Lorena let his hands caress her. The woman was glad she had not gone to sleep this night. The moment Thorin entered the door, her eyes drank him in. Surprise had been etched on his face as he stepped in, silently watching the moon kiss her walnut tresses. There had been no words, mouths too busy to speak one word. Lips clashed furiously, starving from the long separation. Passion ran high, eager fingers pulling material apart. Bodies teemed with pent-up desire. In short minutes Thorin had her crying out in pure bliss. And it had been hours upon hours since then, Lorena realised somewhere in the back of mind.

Ardent lips took her mouth, swallowing her breath, sucking in the air from her lungs. Her whole frame broke apart from inside out. Thorin followed after her, spending himself inside her. Lorena trembled with the aftershock, her lips parting in wordless whispers. Sleek skin glinted in the light of the rising sun. The rays illuminated them from the east. Thorin kissed her again, this time the satisfied sort that she received after a night of passion. She received it, meeting his lips with her own.

"I love you, woman," he told her, turning on his side and embracing her. "You have no idea."

"I think it is you who does not know," Lorena said against his skin. "It is you who had no idea."

A chuckle escaped his throat. "Are you satisfied now, wife? Has your want been sated?"

Humming in the back of her throat, Lorena shook her head. "I don't think I will ever be."

"At least here we are of one mind." He stoked her hair languorously.

"Husband," she started, eyes searching for his. The woman bit into her lower lip, rising on one elbow. "I want to ask you something." He stared at her curiously. "How do you-no." She stopped talking.

"Whatever it is, just say it," Thorin advised her, his fingers still combing through her tangled hair.

Instead of answering him with words, Lorena took his hand and guided it down to her middle. She smiled unsurely, her eyes begging him to understand the words that had been stuck in her throat. Thorin looked at his large hand played on her. A thought entered his mind ever so slow and took root.

"You," he whispered in amazement, "are you with child?" His hand stroked her in tender movements. Lorena nodded her head, pleased about the joyful wonder on his face. His lips stretched in a smile, a warm one she had rarely seen him wear.

"I take it that you are happy?" she asked, although she already knew.

"The happiest I have ever been," Thorin assured her. His arms wrapped around her. "Stay with me today."

"Do you not have duties to attend to?" she questioned, knowing he had little leisure time on his hands.

"Not this day, wife." Thorin traced a line along her spine. "This day my only duty is to you. They will have to make do without me." Lorena giggled as his beard tickled her. "I cannot promise to always be there."

"I understand," she replied. And she did. He was busy.

"But I shan't neglect you like I have," he continued, "you have my word."

"And I will not let myself be neglected, worry not," she offered, her head resting on his shoulder.

Harsh golden light painted the world outside the windows. Lorena closed her eyes and though of the future. It did not scare her so anymore. It hadn't for a long time now. Her ghosts had hidden themselves somewhere, in a place she could not reach. Nor did she want to. Hers was the future now. She had a family and everything she would ever need right here, in the arms of her husband.

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_**A/N: Just as I have promised, here is the first one-shot. I hope you liked it and much as I've enjoyed writing it. Do tell me what you think.:) **_


	2. Loose Ends

**A/N: Modern day AU. Because someone requested it and well, here you have it. Not very detailed I'm afraid but I'm sure you'll like it.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

_i_

Lori stared somewhat peeved at her new carpet then glared at the creature which had stretched itself over said carpet. The dog paid his mistress no mind as he tried to scratch an itch. Clearing her throat, Lori set her hands on her hips.

"Really?" she asked dryly, a look of consternation passing over her face. "This is my new carpet. And you drag mud all over it?! For heaven's sake, Gwyn, it cost a lot!"

Bored eyes simply stared at her for a moment before Gwyn went back to scratching his back. Lori huffed in exasperation and made for the bathroom. She was going to have to clean that stupid thing. Grabbing a sponge and the cleaning utensils she hurried back to the room shooing Gwyn away. On her knees, she started scrubbing. "Gwyn I love you, but one of these days your luck will run out." The dog barked at her. Lori rolled her eyes. "You know I'm right and stop barking or the neighbours will hear.

A groan left her lips at the thought of her neighbours. First there was old Mrs. Benson. That woman was a terror, always sticking her nose where it had no place and constantly trying to find out if Lori was in single so she could pair her up with a nice young gentleman. Another one of her personal favourites was Jonathan Strei. The guy was a mechanic and whenever they happened to be in the same small space he would hit on her. Lori had subtly tried to make him stop but that man wouldn't know what 'no' meant if it hit him in the face. And, of course, that one weird couple that never left their apartment.

Then there was Nick Forser, a former heavy-weight champion. Lori actually liked the man. He was in his early forties and very good company once one got past his gruffness. More than once he had told her mechanic friend off, helping Lori out of some uncomfortable situations. Gwyn too liked the man. And so Lori found herself leaving the dog to this particular neighbour when she had business to deal with. That man was like a father to her.

The daughter of a neurosurgeon, Robert Bolger, and an actress, Marina Seaffer, Lorena had never had an easy childhood. Her mother had not particularly wanted a child, keeping the one she made for various benefits; it did not go with her plans later on, so Lorena spent her childhood with her father and his wife, Marybeth. Although her father's wife treated her well, Lori was always aware of her status in the family. She was not like Remy or Jocelyn. She was an accident. Robert had always made sure she had food and clothes and a good education but he shied away from any sort of emotional contact. That combined with her natural shyness made her aloof, standoffish to others. She didn't have any friends in school, nor did she spent time with children her own age because of that.

Her loneliness was cured when she met Bilbo Baggins. Bilbo was a sort of cousin to her as far as blood ties went but, more than that, he was her first real friend. She was eighteen when she met him. Bilbo came to visit her father all the way from Australia. He instantly connected with Lori and shortly after he settled in London, working for a small firm there. Lori followed him, enrolling into University. For years they shared a flat.

Fourteen month ago, her cousin had met Emilia, a Hispanic woman whose kind nature made everyone instantly like her. Lori moved out after they got married. She was already working so it was no big deal. Of course Emilia had insisted that she stay but Lori would have felt awkward being in their way all the time.

Gwyn literally hopped on her lap one day when she was in the park. He had been a small puppy, abandoned and dirty, and Lori's heart bled at the sight. She immediately took him to her new flat. To her great amusement and pleasure, her little companion seemed to hate Jonathan with a passion. The guy tried to touch him only to have his fingers munched on. The look on his face made Lori laugh until tears steamed down her face.

The doorbell rand, making Lori jump out of her lost state "That must be Bilbo." He had promised to visit her, and bring Emilia along too. The woman was pregnant and was starting to show. She looked at the carpet to see that she had managed to clean it. "Thank goodness." Rising to her feet, she straightened her clothes as she walked to the door. Opening the door she was careful to place a smile on her face. Gwyn barked in the background scrambling to his feet and running to the door. Supporting his weigh on his hind legs the dog put its paws on Bilbo's legs, tail waggling.

Bilbo opened his arms in invitation as he stepped over the threshold. Lori jumped into his embrace enthusiastically. She laughed as he ruffled her hair and broke out of his arms. Lori smiled at Emilia and pulled the older woman in a hug, mindful of the small bump in the midsection. Gwyn ran circles around them, his tail still waving left and right in rapid movements.

"Who's moving in?" Bilbo asked, taking Emilia's jacket off and hanging it.

"What do you mean?" Lori questioned back, confusion in her voice. "She peered through the slightly parted door to see boxes on the hall way. "I have no idea. This morning those boxes were not here. Maybe Jonathan has finally obtained a post somewhere else." Lori pondered out loud.

"Maybe you should give the man a chance," Emilia suggested in a motherly voice. "You are always cooped up here. Go out and have some fun one in a while."

Embarrassment coloured Lori's cheeks. What Emilia was saying was true, she rarely went out. Thus it also happened that she ever really met a special someone. "I can't promise you anything, Emi, you know how I am. But I really have no desire to give him a chance."

"Then, you know what? I'll take you with me," Emilia delivered happily. "Next Friday. At Donn's."

Protest bubbled on Lori's lips. "I couldn't possibly-"

"Nonsense," Emilia interrupted her, "you are coming and that's final. Bilbo, tell her she's coming."

"Come on cousin," he encouraged Lori with a grin. "Don't knock it 'till you've tried it, I think the saying is."

"Fine," Lori agreed. "You win this time." She shook her head and giggled at the look of triumph on Emilia's face. "I'm only doing this because later on we won't be able to."

_ii_

The music pumped all around her, bodies grinding to one another in time with the beat. Lori grimaced at the headache that had developed in her skull. This really wasn't her cup of tea. She took a sip of her drink and pulled her skirt down. The short cloth kept riding up her legs, exposing a lot skin she didn't feel comfortable showing.

This night was not bad, but Lori had always known why she never liked these loud and packed places. Emilia was dancing with her husband, her face weakly lit by the dim lights. Gretchen, a friend of Emilia's, came up next to Lori and smiled kindly at the girl.

"Are you okay?" she asked with a smile. "I thought I saw you scowl a moment ago." Gretchen finished. A mother of two, at thirty-eight, Gretchen pretty much acted like everybody's parent. She was a sweet woman, a bit unlucky as far as relationships went. But she had her feet firmly planted on the ground and took great care of her two sons.

"I'm alright," Lori assured the older woman, "I'm just annoyed by this goddamned skirt." Once again she tugged the material down. "I swear it's the worst!"

Gretchen laughed. "That's why I prefer pants to anything really." She looked down thoughtfully. "It's not that bad, but just in case, next time go for skinny jeans. They would look smashing on you."

"Point taken." Lori bit her lip and downed the content of her glass. A catchy tune started playing. Its beat thrummed through her body inciting her body to move. "I like this song."

"Then to the floor we go." Gretchen grabbed her hand and dragged all the way to a free spot. "Come on, move."

Doing her best, Lori soon lost herself in the music. She ended up having fun, with Gretchen supporting her all the way. That woman sure knew how to make one feel better. Even her headache receded by the time they were ready to leave the club.

"Call me when you get home," Bilbo instructed his cousin in a stern manner. He hailed her a cab and helped her in. "Night, shrimp." He kissed her cheek.

"Oh shut it. You aren't all that tall either." She placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "See you later." She waved at Emilia and Gretchen.

Stepping out from the car Lori let the chilly night air wash over her. She took a deep breath, adjusting her scarf. "Finally home," she said, in front of her flat building. The young woman searched her purse for the keys, fingers bumping in every unnecessary object littering her handbag. Frustration made her sigh. "Where did I put them?" A jolt travelled up her spine, making her jump. Lori turned her head, and was surprised to see a tall man staring down at her.

Grey eyes analyzed her closely. Lori felt her heart skip a beat. The man was stunning, kind of like the sinuous sounds the strings of a violin made. He had a cold beauty that left her speechless. It did not help that the stranger towered over her; she felt like a deer in the headlights. Although, to be fair, he did not look like he meant her any harm. Nor did he seem to be an axe murderer. Which was good, because he was very attractive. The silence stretched between them for a few more seconds.

The man raised his hand, the movement distracting Lori from his face. Hazel eyes went wide to see a key very much like her own. He must have moved here recently, she thought, while watching him open the door.

"After you, Miss," he spoke. His voice was deep and smooth, a sound that made Lori sign and glue herself to him to listen to it all day long.

"Thank you," she heard herself reply. Lori entered the building, silently reminding her lungs to drag air in and then puff it out. She could hear him walk behind her and had the urge to turn around, or fidget, or pull down her skirt. That damnable too-short skirt. Lori had forgotten about it for a moment and it hit her in the face like a slap.

The stairs creaked under her feet and she could still hear a second set of footsteps. Lori reached her door and pulled out the keys she had finally managed to find. To her utter astonishment the man walked to the flat that weird couple used to share.

"You're the one who moved in last week?" she asked out loud.

He turned to glance at her. "Yes. I don't think we've met. I'm Thorin Oakenshield." He extended his hand.

"Lorena Bolger," she answered and shook hands with him. "It's a bit curious that we haven't run into each other earlier."

Thorin shrugged. "Good night Miss Bolger."

"Please, it's Lori, Mr Oakenshield," she joked softly, a flicker of amusement in her eyes.

"In that case call me Thorin," he replied with a smirk. Thorin entered his lodging.

Turning away Lori entered her own place, closing the door with a thud. Gwyn jumped on her when he spotted the woman. "Easy Gwyn." Lori patted the dog's head. "Did you have a good time with Mr Forser?" Gwyn nuzzled his head into her leg. "Oh, I get it," Lori said after a moment of thinking, "You've missed me. Haven't you?" The pet barked approvingly. "Gwyn, don't. You'll wake everyone up."

"I'm hungry." She walked to the kitchenette, her loyal dog following close behind. Digging through her pocket Lori pulled out her phone and dialled Bilbo's number. It rang a few times before her cousin picked up. After a routine check-up Lori was left to prepare her meal in peace. Well, relative peace, as Gwyn stood to the side with puppy eyes just begging to get something to eat too.

"Okay, I get it. You will also get something," Lori conceded. "Stop looking at me like that. Gwyn, stop. No. Don't." It wasn't working, dog was winning. "Damn it Gwyn."

Lori threw him a piece of meat which he caught in the air.

_iii_

Thorin dropped his bag to the floor as the door clicked shut behind him. He ran a hand through his hair and let his head roll back. Tense muscles relaxed slightly. Rather carelessly he took his shirt off and threw it away. All the way to the shower he lest a trail of clothes behind. Water started running, the sound filling the empty space.

The flat was sparsely furnished. It looked like it wasn't even lived in. Everything was immaculate, cold rooms stretching out. One might not think it strange considering he had just moved to that place. Surely in a week he did not have time to fill his home to much. But the state of his flat had always been that of semi-bareness. The only personal things, that gave an inkling to the real, breathing man were a few photographs , neatly placed on the coffee table.

The first picture was of a family of five. An imposing man held his arm around a tall, elegant woman and in front of them two boys. The older one was holding a baby, wrapped in a pink blanket, in his arms. The other child looked curiously at the bundle as the mother smiled kindly, ruffling the older son's hair. That was Thorin's family. His parents and younger siblings, Frerin and Dis; Thorin was the one looking mildly irritated at the camera.

The second photograph was of three young people; an older Thorin had his arm around a teenager Dis and Frerin was patting her head. The girl was scowling, looking ready to shed blood. Thorin was grinning at the camera, a truly content look on his features. Frerin's face was set in a laugh, making the contrast to his sister's face even more amusing.

The last picture was of Thorin and an older man. Both looked serious. The young Thorin was supporting the other man. There was an uncanny resemblance between their faces. They were no doubt related. Unlike the other pictures, this presented a strict face of the man, not unlike the one of his father. The older man was in fact Thorin's grandfather, Thror. He had not seen him for years now.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Thorin dried his hair with a towel. He went straight to the bedroom and crashed on the bed, clad in boxers and a shirt. Steely eyes snapped opened as he found himself contemplating his neighbour. The woman he had met at the entrance. He had not seen her until this night, he was sure.

She was a small thing, standing at about five feet. His six feet two inches frame easily covered hers. Her face was pleasant, although he hadn't detected anything remarkable, yet she was attractive. Her eyes had been warm and trusting, a look of innocence that she wore so well dominating her features. She seemed to be a sweet woman. Thorin shook his head. Why was he thinking about her again?

He closed his eyes. There were more important things to deal with. And he was tired. Too damn tired to be thinking about a woman he had just met no matter how good she had looked in the low light.

A bark sounded through the silence making Thorin open his eyes. Lifting his upper half up, he looked at the door. Who had a dog? It couldn't be that mechanic two doors down. He was forever leaving his flat at noon and returning only by ten in the afternoon. Nor could it be the older man. The massive guy had a limp, a severe one at that, which would prove problematic if he always had to look after a pet. Come to think of it, he rarely left his home.

Naturally it fell to the sole female neighbour then. Lorena she had said her name was. A small smile stretched over Thorin's face. Somehow it seemed to fit her, having a pet. Then he realised he was still thinking about her. Thorin sighed. Pinching the bridge of his nose, the man drove all thoughts away from his mind. They could not be trusted at the moment it seemed. Dropping back to the mattress, inky hair on white sheets, he fell into oblivion.

Morning rolled by in a fast flurry. Thorin woke up with the taste of sand burning in his mouth. He could hear the sound of commotion on the hall, probably what woke him up. Turning on his side, the man buried his head in the pillow, deciding to ignore the uproar. Yet the sounds were only growing louder. A high pitched voice tore through his brain.

"What the fuck?" Thorin jumped out of bed, pulling a pair of random trousers on. He walked barefoot to the door, an angry expression clouding his face. Yanking the door open he came face to face with a pissed off Jonathan and a very distressed Lorena.

The tall male could see her breathe in relief when her eyes landed on him. Jonathan on the other hand, looked miffed, like somebody who had just had his plans ruined.

"Well the, I'll be going. Bye Jonathan. Thorin." Lori avoided the oppressive man that had put himself in the middle of the hallway, squeezing past him. She looked back at Thorin sending him a silent message of thanks.

The woman was well aware that she owed him. Jonathan was getting a to bee a little too much for her to handle on her own.

Lori ran down the stairs, hurrying to get away. She was running late for work as it was. In the back of her mind she made a note to thank her helpful neighbour when she next saw him.

Jonathan glared at the taller man. "What the hell are you looking at, buddy?" he snarled, ice blue eyes scrutinizing his opponent.

"Let's get a few things clear," Thorin retorted, not liking the attitude one bit. "First, I'm not your buddy. Second, leave the girl alone. And third, watch your back." he threatened in a serious manner. "Got it? Buddy?" he asked sardonically, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Who do you think you are?" Jonathan threw at Thorin, his face going red in his rage. "What the hell gives you the right to come into something private like that?"

"There isn't anything private in an asshole like you forcing himself on a woman. If I see you bothering her again, I won't be so lenient." Thorin slammed the door in his face. Some people made him want to shoot them straight between the eyes. Jonathan fitted the bill just fine.

"Scum," Thorin said to no one in particular, trudging back to bed. He had a few more hours of sleep.

_iv_

"I thought I told you to leave her alone," Thorin growled out.

He had just gotten in the building to see the mechanic was at it again. Lori looked a bit more frightened now, her face a few shades too pale. What was wrong with the man, always picking on the woman? Thorin grabbed Jonathan by the collar, pulling him away from Lori.

"Was I not clear enough?" He smashed him to the wall. "I may need to be a little more persuasive then."

Lorena watched, wide-eyed as Thorin gave Jonathan a few good punches. She had not realised just how string he was. He must have had some power in those arms to remove Jonathan from her person like he had. Tears tracked down her cheeks. She had almost given up hope. This week Nick had gone off with some friend of his. A fishing trip, Lori recalled, and she was left with no defence. Thorin had been absent, she hadn't seen the whole week. Dimly she realised that she only saw him on Fridays or week-end days.

"Come on," Thorin called over his shoulder, dropping a bloody nosed Jonathan to the floor. He extended his clean hand to her, shoving the other in his pocket. "I'll see you to your place."

She smiled weekly at him, her face still stark white. A trembling hand, cold fingers wrapped around Thorin's hand. He glared at Jonathan once more. Lori hid behind him, feeling safer like that. She walked alongside her saviour, words all stuck in her throat.

The woman was trembling like a leaf; Thorin sensed it against his skin. "It's okay. He won't bother you again. If he as much as approaches you one more time-"

"You don't have to do this," Lori interrupted him as they reached her door. "It must be a bother. You really don't have to concern yourself with me."

"That's some way of thanking me," Thorin drolly remarked. This rose had thorn it seemed.

"I'm sorry," Lori rectified, "I didn't mean to seem ungrateful. I really am thankful for the help." She bit her lip in uncertainty. "Would you like to come in?"

"Don't you think that's dangerous?" Thorin asked, one eyebrow rising. "I'm a stranger to you, after all."

"You saved me," she answered as if to remind him. "Had you wanted to hurt me, I'm sure you would have done it by now. So?"

Thorin nodded his head. "Sure. Why not?"

Opening the door, they were attacked by a ivory animal. It sniffed Thorin curiously, throwing glances to its mistress ever now and then. "This is Gwyn. He's friendly don't worry," Lori assured her guest.

Petting the dog silently, Thorin watched her, "I noticed." He took off his coat at hung it. Keen eyes glanced around the apartment. How different it was from his! Although the place was neat, it was also warm and cosy, a far cry from his place. It looked like a real home, not a house.

"What would you like? Coffee?" she called, grabbing his attention. "Tea?" She pondered for a moment. "Don't just stand there. Come on, follow me."

A grin broke out on Thorin's face. This reminded him of a time when he was but a child and his mother dragged him after her. He obediently followed the small woman. She looked so well here, like she belonged. One would expect that. She lived here after all.

Sitting on a stool Thorin continued his inspection. Dark eyes trailed after her form as she moved around with ease. "Beautiful," he whispered to himself. And she was. She had this fragile appearance about her that made him want to protect her. Alarms sounded in his head. Was he getting attached?

"What did you say? I didn't catch it, sorry." She hummed, pouring the water. Twirling a lock of hair that had escaped her tie, she looked at him over her shoulder.

"Nothing," Thorin answered. "Do you live here on you own?"

She shook her head, "I have Gwynn." She smiled at the look on his face. "Yes, Gwyn is my only flatmate. You?"

"I've always been a lone wolf." He nodded his head. Thorin caught her stare with his own.

Over the course of the next few hours Thorin got to know this creature a little bit better. She was not extremely open, but then again, neither was he. Other than that she really was an incredibly innocuous young woman with trouble in her past. She spoke nothing of that, but the shadows were clear to him. He shared even less of himself. Thorin simply couldn't, even if he had wanted to. It was impossible to him, but he did feel torn about it, something he had never experienced before. Hell, he even regretted leaving her place for his own cold dwellings.

And soon it became a habit, meeting with her every week and drinking tea or coffee. If she wasn't at his place, the he was at hers. It astonished him how quickly she wormed her way into his universe and found a comfortable place to settle in. Even more surprising was that he found himself liking it. That was dangerous.

At the same time, Lori was developing some strong feelings for her next door neighbour. There was something about him, he was irresistible to her. Thorin was taking over her heart and thoughts and she was alright with that. Their weekly meeting became the highlight of her life. Like any woman who fancied herself in love she anticipated the moment and played a thousand scenarios in her head.

Just when things were starting to brighten, it hit Thorin like a train, He picked his cell phone, scrolling through the messages. There he saw it. The game was no longer just play. He would have to let her go soon. But he did not want to let her go, not at all.

"Hey, Thorin!" Lori exclaimed as she entered his flat, a smile on her lips. "How are we today?"

"Brilliant, now that I've seen you." She laughed at the comeback nut did not comment.

_v_

Thorin was suffocating. Blood filled his mouth, the metallic taste lingering on his tongue. The gunshot rang through the heavy air, hitting the target. The shot was a clean kill. His victim had not suffered. Thorin scowled. That bastard deserved every ounce of pain. But enough thinking about his targets; Thorin was covered in blood. Some of it his, but most of it not. The man grimaced and cursed through gritted teeth. He was supposed to meet with Lorena and he would never make it in time. "Damn it all." He would scare the living daylights out of her is he appeared like this.

Warm water poured over him, cleansing away the sickening red. But it was not fast enough. Thorin made the bitter realisation that he was almost never fast enough when it counted. Blood soaked clothes on the floor and opened wounds on his body, he stood before her, the mountain that could be brought down at the gentlest of breezes.

"What-What?" Lori stammered over her words. Her complexion had flushed to a brilliant ruby colour, the blush gliding down her neck, into the large t-shirt she wore. "Thorin, what happened?" She could not phantom the reason for which he was covered in blood and she felt worry grip at her when she saw his injuries. "Wait. Don't tell me."

He stooped his mouth from speaking. He could have told her anything, an elaborated lie and he would be free of all suspicion but he did not want that. He did not wish to lie to her. "Lori, I-"

"I don't want to hear it. Whatever it is," she replied coldly, an internal battle taking place in her mind. "Just let me treat you and don't say a single word. I need to think." She looked around unsurely. "Do you have a first aid kit?" He nodded towards the bathroom. "Stay here." Lori hurried in that direction and found what she needed with relative ease.

Without saying a thing she cleaned the wounds, applied disinfectant and wrapped a soft gauze to the heavier ones. Thankfully he did not need any stitching. Thorin had not said anything to her. He simply let the woman slide her hands and fingers against him. Who knew? This may very well be the last time he had the chance. A muffled sound came from behind him and he felt her trace an old scar with her index finger.

"Do you do this for a living?" she asked finally. There was no need to clarify, it was glaringly obvious what she meant.

"We do what we have to," he answered morosely. "I do my job."

"Can you," she paused, leaning her head on his uninjured shoulder, "tell me who you work for? Or are you not allowed to?"

"Can't," he replied shortly, in a clipped manner. "You should probably go now. Don't worry, I won't bother you."

"Don't you dare," Lori hissed in his ear. "Don't you dare, think you can dismiss me just like that! It's not fair." She got up from the bed and walked around him, to the window. "You cannot just play with my feeling like that."

"I could so easily shoot you where you stand," Thorin told her with no inflection. He rose to his feet, sinewy form cornering her, leaving no room for escape. Long fingers brushed against her neck, feeling her pulse beat wildly underneath his fingertips. "It would only take a strong squeeze to leave you breathless." He leaned in closer to her face. "Just one move to snap you in two."

"Are you trying to scare me? Because if you are, you're doing a fine job at it. But this won't make me leave you." Lori took his hand and entwined her fingers with his. "Someone had to do it, whatever it is that you are doing. And I'm sure you have your reasons. I don't need to hear them. Just-" she stopped speaking. Warm, full lips pressed to his mouth. Lori felt his shock and surprise. "You should consider yourself lucky, sir; I have no intention of leaving you."

"Should've taken your chance when you had it." Thorin backed her against the wall. "You're not getting another." Practiced hands lifted her by the waist, pushing the soft body into the hard surface. On instinct she parted her thighs slightly. Thorin used the breach to widen them more. Bodies pressed together, skin burning through thin cloth. She moaned at the new feeling, her face burying in his shoulder. Deft fingers stroked her body, like a skilled musician playing the harp, pinching, pushing and pulling. A desperate plea was lost in her flesh, passing from his lips to her soul.

Tangling her fingers in his short cropped hair, Lori gave a weak tug. Thorin let her wrap around him after he discarded of her clothing, throwing the pieces anywhere away from the skin he was burning to see. He moved his mouth over hers in a claiming way, biting the soft skin of her lips, leaving his mark. Self-control flew out the window and he lost himself in her. The woman gave freely, opening to the first touch of another. She traced her way through uncharted, learning as she went.

Wild and passionate, then sweet and slow to scorching and all consuming, she tasted all colours of the spectre. Meshed outlines in the fading light, the two let the ardour burn out to embers, pleasantly tingling through sated bodies. Trembling and sleek-skinned, they climbed to unsteady feet.

Losing her footing Lori was about to fall. She squeaked in surprise as Thorin caught her naked form, broad hands trailing over her. Although these were innocent touches, their purpose not to build a fire in the pit of her stomach, Lori found herself glad for them. She liked the feeling of his hands on her. It was the most basic sort of touch that appealed to her innermost need. She was affectionate with those she offered her heart too, however few they were.

"You had better explain this to me one day," she said in a faraway voice.

"One day," Thorin agreed to the loose promise. "Stay with me and I will tell you one day."

"I have to go back now," she said after a moment of silence. "Gwyn's all alone and I'm pretty sure he's not pleased about that."

"Are you telling that a dog's feelings are more important than me?" Thorin asked with a profound lack of seriousness.

"Don't be daft. You can't keep me all to yourself," she noted teasingly. "You'll have to share. Gwyn won't mind."

"How relieving," he wryly remarked.


	3. Shards on the floor

Set of vignettes, more will follow. No set timeline or universe.

* * *

**Introduction**

Lori raises her eyes from the worn pages of her book to glare at her cousin. Instead her warm hazel depths meet a pair of stormy orbs. Her cheeks burn and she almost tips her tea mug over the edge. Bilbo watches with interest before he introduces them. Thorin is simply amused by the young woman's antics. He can see her trying to decide whether to stay or leave. Relief fills him when she finally offers a shy smile and orders more tea, tiny fingers caressing the spine of her book. Lori is somewhat stunned to see her cousin's friend smile back at her.

**Love**

It's not love. It's not love. That's what goes on in his mind. Thorin tries to convince himself that it isn't love. As he wraps his jacket around the girl he chases the thoughts away. It's not love. She is his friend's cousin. She is Lori, a woman he's met not that long ago. He turns a blind eye to her radiant smiles. If he pays too much attention his knees might go weak. And that can't happen because he is not in love with her. A small hand touches his arm gently. Lori peers at him asking if he is alright. His nod prompts hers. It's not love.

**Light**

Her dress floats around her, gauzy material catching the light. Lori rolls her eyes at Bilbo but still loops her arm through his. Her other arm she gives to Thorin. Whatever her cousin says is lost to her the moment Thorin brushes his skin against hers. As if sensing the silent tremor his gaze follows their entwined arms. Lori turns her head back to Bilbo pretending to take interest in what he was speaking about. Thorin lets her be. He doesn't call her on the continuous delicate tremble that shakes her limbs. However he almost laughs when Bilbo asks her if she is cold.

**Dark**

The leafs rustle in the trees, moving along with the wind. The hard stone cold is behind her back and Lori tries to push away from the wall. Of course there is no progress for her advancement is stopped in an equally solid body which is burning with heat. Thorin holds her with an iron fist; he makes it so that she cannot move. He likes the fire burning in her eyes. Those endless depths shine bright in the complete darkness that surrounds them. "What are you going to do now?" he asks. Lori struggles for a few moments before pouting and Thorin knows he's made his point clear. "I told you it would be difficult to find a way to escape.

**Seeking Solace**

Thorin hunches before his grandfather's grave, his eyes suddenly hard steel of determination and grief. Whatever he says, Lori can't hear, nor does she want to. However when he stands up straight and turns to her she threads her fingers through his. He hasn't asked for comfort but she does not need him to ask. There are no words to tell him, the only thing she can do is sooth the pain little by little. Lori lets Thorin lead the way, content to lightly squeeze his hand and watch her breath fog up the air. Thorin takes what she gives, his lips remaining sealed.

**Break Away**

Slick hands grip at the pebbles on the ground. Lori's balance is thrown off and she crashes to the floor. The sharp stones underneath her cut through the skin, leaving behind a trail of stinging lacerations. With great difficulty she manages to rise on all fours, her hand blindly searching for a weapon. Dust is all she meets. A shot rings out behind her. Scared eyes turn to the source. Thorin stand over the dead body with a satisfied smirk. He pushes the lips head with his shoe and helps Lori to her feet. She glares at him half-heartedly but still thanks him, in a stiff, high pitched voice.

**Heaven**

White painted walls are more than likely to leave her half blind so Lori tends to avoid them all together. She stays as far away from hospitals as she can and only goes there if it is absolutely necessary. This is a defence mechanism of sorts. Hospitals bring back dark memories. But when her cousin lands himself in trouble she is forced to get a grip and trot to the hospital. Lori comes in with her mind made up to give him a good lesson but the white stops her. So much white, it feels like heaven; if heaven was a vast nothingness. The only colour she registers in from the man her cousin calls over. Thorin.

**Innocence**  
Mountains of snow have gathered in her backyard. Thorin lazily drags his fingers along her spine while Lori is lost in dreams. On instinct her fingers curl around his bicep, nails leaving crescent moons behind. Her mouth trembles as if she would start crying any moment now. But she doesn't. Her face remains like that for a few seconds before it morphs in a happy expression. "You remind me of a child," Thorin whispers in her ear.

**Drive**

Delicate limbs wrap around him and there is strength in them; strength he had not seen until this point. Thorin lets the fire consume him and looses himself in the frenzy. To him she is the most real like this. Physically feeling Lori is the only thing that can convince him she's still here, holding onto him, like the vine clings to the wood in the storm. Lori drinks in the passion and might, and thrives under the nourishment. The steel beneath the veneer she uses to fuse herself to Thorin. She wants to make him believe in something. He might as well believe in them.

**Breathe Again**

The breath leaves her lungs as Lori is forced on her back. She falls on the bed pulling Thorin along with her. And then she can't breathe normally for a long while. Rapid puffs pass her lips which are almost always parted slightly. But oh is she so very unconcerned with it! It matters little that she cannot breathe. Thorin manages very fine without air, so she will follow his example. It is exhilarating, her head is spinning and she's oddly pleased at being unable to draw the air deep in her lungs. She can live just as well without ever breathing again.

**Memory**

The black and white photograph rests in Thorin's hands. He looks at it as one might stare at a perfect stranger. And in a way that's what the photograph shows him; two perfect strangers. He looks nothing like the young man in the picture anymore. His hair has greyed and his beard had grown, and most importantly he no longer has her. She was, still is, the only thing that mattered. She was, still is, his wife. His dear Lorena. The smile on her face, the one she wears in the photograph, he can no longer see. Lorena is here no more.

**Insanity**

"You are positively insane," Dis tells him, with a hint of annoyance. However she does extend her care to the woman her brother has brought home. She can't bring herself to tell this Lori that their parents will most likely not agree to the marriage. Thorin sees the look in her eyes and shushes her. "Maybe, but I'm not concerned about that," he replies and wraps an arm around Lori protectively. Lori smiles, "I do believe you should be concerned." Her words are a bit harsh but the glimmer in her eyes tells something else. Thorin is concerned, he just won't show it.

**Misfortune (p.1)**

"Count your blessings," grandmamma says but Lori ignores her. She is too busy sulking. Her mother is getting married once again and the girl hates even the thought of it. She doesn't want another father when she already has one. "It's not your poor mother's fault that her husband died and left you two on your own." Again Lori disregards the ailing woman. The door bands downstairs and her mother calls, "Lori, come meet your siblings." The girl drags her feet down and is faced with three children not much older than her. "I'm Thorin," says the eldest one while extending his hand.

**Smile (p.2)**

She more used to her new siblings now, Lori considers as she helps Dis secure the flowers in her hair. The step-sister brushes a hand over her blue dress and smiles at Lori in the mirror. "We'll be the prettiest girls there, you'll see," she brags confidently. Lori simply nods her head and giggles. Of course mother would be the prettiest but she doesn't say that to Dis. "Let's go." She pulls her sister's hand and they rush down the stairs. Dis stops abruptly making Lori fall. Luckily she is saved at the last moment. Thorin hold her up with surprisingly strong hands.

**Silence (p.3)**

They are older now. Lori looks at her brothers and sister. Thorin barely looks a day over twenty and yet he is almost thirty. Frerin is twenty-five while she and Dis are twenty-four. They have gathered together to celebrate Dis' engagement but Lori can't get this feeling out of way. Something makes her heart ache for Thorin to just look at her. It's not normal, she knows but she still wants those grey eyes to watch her. She frowns at the girl standing by his side and delicately sips a bit of wine from her glass. Why won't he look at her? At least acknowledge her.

**Questioning (p.4)**

Eldridge, Dis' soon to be husband, closes the door softly. He had known it all along. The blond man thinks about it for a moment more. Thorin, his fiancée's brother, and Lori, Dis' sister, are actually step siblings. Naturally they were raised as brother and sister, yet the way they look at one another is far from platonic. He sees Thorin's eyes flash dangerously when Daly jokingly places his arm around Lori. And the pining look she sends to Thorin is not lost to Eldridge. So it comes as no surprise when, quite by accident, he opens the door to find them locked in an embrace.

**Blood (p.5)**

There is no blood tie between them. Thorin lets the knowledge wash over him with immense satisfaction as he twist a handful of Lori's hair between his fingers. She whimpers and her lips gently press to his temple. "Marry me," he finally says. It's not a question, it's not an order. "Let's get married and get this done." Lori hesitates, thinking about their parents. "They will understand. It's not like we're really brother and sister." Truth is they have never been brother and sister, unlike the relationship with the others. She gives her consent and disappears out the door, as fast as a flash. Mother watches from the end of the hall stupefied.

**Rainbow**

Dewy grass bends under their feet and swishes softly. Thorin braids Lori's hair with skilled fingers and she relaxes, basking in the calmness. There are not many days such as this when they can just sit and do nothing. Bilbo is somewhere near Balin, they are speaking in shushes voices. Lori can hardly pay attention when Thorin is so near her. Fili and Kili are undoubtedly cooking up a scheme that will annoy Thorin; Lori almost shakes her head at them. But then again, they are young and want to have fun. She lets them be. The sun shines in the sky.

**Grey (p.1)**

Brittle straw crunches under the men's riding boots. Lori holds her breath as the chieftain scrutinizes her. The ornaments in her hair are a bother and the long red dress is rough against her skin. She misses the warm furs father would let her wear. But she is no longer her father's. She belongs to this man now. The one they call Thorin. Her man unveils her. Lori sits quietly, no sound passes her lips. The dress rips with a sharp sound and she feels his furred coat against her bare form. She can distinguish between the few shades and wishes she could see the grey sky now that the rain is falling.

**Mother Nature (p.2)**

There is little conversation to be had with her man, Lori thinks as she watches him sleep. It is early morning and there is not much light but her eyes are glued to him. He is an island that she cannot reach. He beds her, keeps her healthy and satisfied yet he won't share his thought with her. This will not change any time soon she knows. Is it, perhaps, her destiny to be forever a stranger to him? Mother Nature seems to have taken her hand off of Lori and on her own she is alone because she does not have him.

**Only (p.3)**

The beads spill heavy on the ground. Thorin grasps her thin ankle in his large hand, hot against cold. Lori whimpers at the contact and tries to pull away from her man's hands. However a growl makes her still. He is still angry with her and his fury is not unfounded. "Could you not stay where I told you to, woman?" His voice is deadly, quite as cruel as the axe he embeds in his enemies. "Do you not wish to live any longer?" Lori does not answer him; she rarely speaks when he is in such a mood. "I only you had listened," he says.

**Trouble Lurking (p.4)**

Her mare is frightened, sturdy legs kicking behind. Lori does try to hold on but she's got little physical strength about her. In consequence she is forced down from the horse's back and lands ungracefully on the ground. She rolls out of the way. "Just you wait," Lori breaths out, "I will not give up." She is unaware of the grey eyes that watch her until Thorin's voice reaches her ears. "When will you ever learn to keep out of trouble's way?" He is not bothered, rather amused as he helps her up and whistles to the mare. "Tighten your hold," he instructs and climbs behind her.

**Tears (p.5)**

Wet tracks run down Lori's cheeks and she is utterly exhausted. But she is also happy. The happiest she's ever been, she recounts and weakly smiles to Thorin. Her man is wearing a look of pride on his face and it suits his so very well. Her arms hurt but she gently rocks the bundle she's holding. Lori doesn't dare open her mouth for her voice is still scratchy for all the yelling she has done. Thorin kisses the top of her head while holding her up. "Thank you." It's a whisper that barely reaches her ears. "I love you, woman." The confession is even quieter.

**Under the Rain **

Thorin can barely think straight with her pressed to him like that. He loves her, and it's enough to move mountains; it's enough to make him want to never let go. The rain is falling slowly over them but he doesn't care. Not when he can hold her just like this and kiss her fully on the lips. Lori mirrors his actions with a bit of hesitation. She is still shaky, shocked by his feelings and her own. It is all so rushed that she does not know exactly what to think. So she doesn't think. Her brain can't muster up the strength to anyway.

**Vacation**

"I don't know if I should hit you or laugh," Lori admits as she spreads the map out. "Why did you not ask for directions?" Thorin stubbornly refuses to answer her. She huffs and half-heartedly prods him again. Of course he ignores her attempts at goading him and looks at the map. After a minute or so, Lori gives up and puts her hand on the wheel. "Let me drive from here," she asks. It's not really a question; she's just letting him know that their vacation won't be ruined because he is obstinate and impossible. One would think he could request directions, it would not kill him.

**Foreign**

"Sorry, but I can't understand a thing you're saying," Thorin drawls at the tall blonde. Lori slides her fingers trough his and cocks her head to the side, trying to make out what the blonde wants. The other woman smiles and resumes her explanation. It some time before they finally get what she's asking for. "I thought she was never leaving." Lori laughs at Thorin's words. "I can see you are not extremely fond of strangers," she remarks softly. "It's not the strangers; it's people who keep me from my date." Her mock gasp is rewarded with a playful grin.

**Cat**

The feline curls in Thorin's lap with a continuous purr. The man looks at the pet and sighs. "How come we're capable of getting along only when you mistress is away?" The mistress in question is his wife who has gone out with their son. The cat peers up at him through slit eyes. It had no interest in what is being said but does like the attention it receives. Thorin curses under his breath. Where is his wife? She's been gone long enough and the cat is staring to get overly attached. The doorbell is what saves him in the end.

**Cookies**

Thorne sneaks behind his mother and shoots a glare at his twin sister. Thora winks at him in her usual cheeky manner and skids over to their mother's side. She pulls on the woman's dress to grab her attention and starts chatting away. Baby Faye trots in on unsure feet, demanding Lori's care. The mother picks her youngest son up and that's when she sees it. "Thorne," she calls softly, her voice not rising one bit, "I advise you to step away from the cookie jar." Before the boy can complain, she ads, "You know the rules. Thora take your brother and go play outside. Faye needs me right now."

**Sorrow**

Who knew that someone this small can bleed so much and still hold on? Thorin didn't. He still can't believe it, but he is glad for it. And somehow he is also saddened by it. She doesn't have long. Her small, pale face is a testimony to that. The sorrow pierces his heart like a blunt dagger. It doesn't puncture; it rips uneven chunks of his soul. He takes Lori's hand and places it to his lips. It's cold. She is cold. Her eyes see through him. Again his heart lurches forward painfully. The blood can't seem to stop flowing.

**Happiness**

The sun shines over the field of wheat. Few trees and tall bushes linger here. Lori reclines on the golden ground and Thorin as always stand guard. She had tried getting the elusive knight to at least speak a few words to her but he keeps quiet. So Lori had to make do. She is not exactly happy, but she is not about to give up. Ever so slowly she climbs to her feet and makes sure Thorin is looking the other way. With unknown skill she manages to catch him unprepared and drag him to the ground with her. "See? It's not so bad."

* * *

Feel free to comment.


	4. And then you p1

_i_

Water flowed all around her, dark and oppressive, stealing her away. Lori struggled against the waves that were pushing her under. Her lungs were filled with salty liquid, eyes stinging unpleasantly. A cry left her opened lips which only resulted in her chocking and losing all air. Desperately she tried to reach the light, but it was all to no avail. The sea refused to let her go. Wet arms held onto every piece of her, dragging her down, down. Lori closed her eyes. Her mind took a trip down memories' lane, images flashing in her head, bright and vivid. The end was upon her.

Something hard coiled around her; this time limbs of fire pulled her. Lori let herself be hauled, body dead to the world. She could not move a muscle even if she wanted to. And then chilly air hit her face, sending the girl in a coughing fit.

She expelled water from her lungs, her throat and chest straining under the pressure. The dark emerald dress she wore hung heavy on her, the material scraping against her skin. An unknown hand pulled her hair back, out of her face, along with the many pins that held it. Lori managed to breathe again with a little difficulty. But still she was free of the sea's embrace.

The shock was making her tremble, a violent shake that took over her whole body. She hiccupped involuntarily as she was being lifted off the ground. Lori looked to her saviour, analyzing him without a word. He was much older than her five summers on this earth, tall and broad to her tiny and thin. He must have been past his childhood, yet he was no adult. A boyish face was set in a tight, worried grimace, droplets of water making their way down into his sodden clothing. If she concentrated hard enough, Lori could hear the thudding of his heart. And oh, did it beat fast!

Holding the girl fast in his arms, Thorin dared a look down at the child. Undoubtedly she had been left to her own device by a negligent attendant and this happened. She was lucky he had noticed her fall or her life would have long since left her. His expression softened at bit at her uncontrollable shaking.

Poor child. She must have been cold and frightened. Setting her down on a sturdy rock, Thorin knelt in front of her to get a better look. She was young in years, with a delicate structure and a slender frame. Those waves could have crushed her at any time.

"Are you alright?" he asked, hands lifting her face towards him. He was quite tall for his age and even taller next to her petite form. When she did not reply he tried again. "Come now, say something. Do you wish to go to the healer's?"

A look of utter dread crossed her features and he could not help chuckling. Like any child she resented the word healer. "I'm fine. I don't have to go there if I'm fine." Her voice was just like her, a pleasant breeze.

"Shall I take you home then?" Guileless eyes looked at him. Thorin extended his hand and bowed. "My Lady, allow me to see you home safely."

Minute fingers claimed his proffered hand. He lifted her in his arms and was about to ask where he should take her when a woman came running towards them. Stony eyes regarded the newcomer. She was a tall rail-thin woman of indistinct age with angular features and blonde curls. Concern was etched into her features and for a brief moment Thorin thought he had found the girl's attendant. He was surprised to note that it was not so. The child in his arms lifted her head and stretched both her arms out.

"Lorena!" came the shrill cry of the slender woman. "What are you doing out here? And why are you soaked to the bone?" Although she had addressed the questions to the girl, her eyes were on the young man holding her. They begged for an answer.

The girl flinched but said nothing. Thorin was the one to answer. "I saw her falling in the water. She had climbed one of those rocks," he motioned with his head. "Fortunately I was fast enough and reached her before she was harmed."

Something dark flickered into the woman's eyes. She breathed deeply before regaining her composure. "You have my eternal gratitude for rescuing my niece. I am Yaviel, wife of Barathion son of Berendin. Please, tell me to whom I owe my niece's life."

"You owe me nothing. I have simply done what anyone else would have." If she was indeed Barathion's niece there should have been someone watching her. "As for my name, I am Thorin, son of Thrain."

"I've heard of you son of Thrain. They sing you praise, the brave men who fought in the Far East war." Yaviel smiled, and for a moment she looked a beauty. "I believe you have already met my husband there."

"Indeed," he acknowledged dryly. He had met Baration. He was an able fighter and a good person, some might say even that he even was a good man. "We fought together many battled. His is a good allegiance."

But what he was not was a good husband. His first wife, Aegliriell of Ered Nimrais had had much to suffer from her husband's skirt chasing ways and Thorin could not imagine the man had much changed. However Yaviel seemed a nice sort and he could tell she was fond of her niece although the girl was likely related to Barathion's family through his late wife rather than the new one. The girl shared Aegliriell's features quite remarkably. Thorin had once seen the woman and he did not doubt it. They had warm eyes alike and small faces in bodies of delicate constitution. Aegliriell had dies a couple of years back and Barathion wasted no time in replacing her with a much younger woman.

They had been standing for quite some time and Lori had snuggled deeper in her saviour's hold, content to keep her arms around his neck and use him as support. Her aunt seemed to find him a likable character for she did not straight away reach to take Lorena in her arms, as she did when uncle Barathion would pick her up. The truth of it was that her uncle was most of the time well beyond the decent limit in his cups. Yaviel did not trust him with the girl's gentle soul and frail body. Especially not when he reeked of ale and beer and what not. Lorena might not have been her own but she loved her.

_ii_

Yaviel pushed against Barathion's chest, her eyes alit with fury. Her golden braid hung heavy on her back, a few wisps of hair framing her face. The gentle fair colour contrasted greatly with the angry red stain on her cheek. A drop of blood marred her porcelain skin on the right corner of her mouth from where she had crashed against a wall. Yaviel knew she could not hold him back for much longer but still she was determined not to give up.

"Please, my lord, there is no reason to bother her. She is asleep I assure you," the woman tried to appease her husband. It was futile, of course, but it did its mane job, it stalled his assault. "Think about what the servants will say to see you barging in like that in a young, unattached woman's room."

"Damnation!" the husband bellowed, forcefully pushing his tall companion away. "I will have no more of this. You will get out of my way and let me see her. Need I remind you that she is my daughter?"

"She is your niece," Yaviel calmly replied. "My lord, she is you niece, do not forget, and you shall scare the poor darling senseless if you enter her room like a nomad on a raid."

In reality things were more complicated than that. It appeared that most people had it wrong. As it happened, Aegliriell had been the one to be unfaithful to her husband. She had broken their vows when she took a merchant of Ithilen to her bed, a few short months after her marriage. The woman had been quite unhappy with having to marry Barathion so she extracted her revenge in a way women of her kind did. The poor merchant hadn't stood a chance. Neither had Barathion. He caught the lovers together in her bedchamber. But instead of cutting both their heads off, he banished the man and locked his wife inside her rooms.

After that moment he refused to bed his lawfully wedded wife. He chose to seek the company of other women. It was just as well, because Aegliriell was soon round with child. The months passed with great strain as everyone waited with baited breaths to see who the father of the child was. And when the time finally came tragedy nit. Aegliriell died in child birth, leaving behind a tiny newborn that looked to be her mother's spitting image. It was impossible to tell if she was the child of Barathion or the merchant's. So Barathion called her his own.

His decision was countered by many protests. In the end he had to admit that he could not be sure she was his. So it was that she became Barathion's niece. Yaviel soon married the widowed man and was made aware of the state of things. She took the child in with open arms. Her husband was not the rascal other made him out to be. Oh, he did not love her; she had no illusions. Yaviel well knew his heart had been buried with his first spouse. But he trusted her. That won her heart, and perhaps it was foolish but she hadn't chosen to fall in love with him. It happened.

"You and I both know the truth of it, Yaviel," Barathion whispered to the woman whose height almost reached his own. "I just wish to see her. Just a moment, Yaviel. I want to see her face."

It became apparent that he was no longer talking of his daughter. "It would be unwise, my lord. I beg that you would give up and return to your rooms. Our niece shan't be inclined to see us so early in the morn."

"You are trying my patience." Barathion sighed. "It is your right, after all. Very well, I shall not insist, but I will see her at the morning table."

He watched his blonde companion nod. Then he turned and walked away, his chest tight. Lorena was a constant reminder of Aegliriell, of her deceit and the love he carried for such an adulterous creature. But Barathion desperately wanted Lorena to be his daughter. This way the sting would not be such a burden. He was of course quite aware of acting selfish. Yaviel had come into his home with her own hopes and dreams yet Barathion cruelly crushed them all. He let his young wife know just what their relationship would be like. She only needed to give him an heir and care for his firstborn not many knew of.

The job she had done was a wonderful one, Baration had to admit. Yaviel treated Lorena like her own child and a few months after the girl had entered her sixth year, he was given a healthy baby son. Although it was all great, Lorena could never be his daughter in earnest for when she was introduced to court they presented her as distant relative of his late wife's. Nobody had ever told her of her parentage, nor were they allowed to. Yaviel saw to it that nothing of that sort happened. The girl had been told from an early age that she was the ruler's dearest niece.

Meanwhile Lorena was under her covers, thinking of the latest letters she had exchanged with her friend. They had been writing to each other back and forth for a long time now. The first letter she had received on her twelfth birthday. She was no more than a child, willowy and so very alone. The surprise of the letter made her so happy that she could not stop smiling for a whole week. Of course, she was conversing with the most magnificent person to ever exist. At least that was what she told herself.

And why not? When her friend was also the man who happened to have saved her life, was he not the greatest?

She was now well over her nineteenth summer and her excitement stemmed from the fact that the man of her dreams, literally, for she had dreamed of him since last seeing Thorin, had said he was to visit soon.

* * *

**_A/N: This is part one of, maybe, three. Hope you enjoyed it._**


	5. And then you p2

_iii_

Frerin shook his head at his sister's antics and put a hand on Thorin's shoulder. He could see the annoyance on his brother's face. "Ignore Dis, you know she takes pleasure in jesting."

"She is a good jester; that much I acknowledge" Thorin remarked with a somewhat cruel glint in his eyes. "At least she suits that role well enough. Come sister; do not pull such a long face. Take comfort in the fact that you bring a smile on anyone's face."

A snort left Dis' parted lips. "You grow ever unfriendly in your old age, brother. I see 'tis no wonder why you need the girl do very desperately." She chuckled at his failed attempt to swat her, nimbly moving out of his reach. "I don't so," she teased with her natural flair.

"Enough, Dis!" Frerin called to the woman. "Leave him be," he warned. "I wish you a safe journey and a speedy return."

"I too wish you best of luck," Dis offered sweetly. "However you may stay there until hell freezes over." With that she dashed out the door.

Thorin cursed violently, his hand tightening in a fist. Frerin tried to calm him down. Scowling at his brother, Thorin pushed his hand away. "Do you think anything will come out of this?"

"I do not know, brother." Frerin shrugged. "If it is the wish if the Gods it will; if not you must take comfort in the knowledge that it was not meant to be. I cannot say anything else to you. However I must confess you surprised us all." He smiled. "Mother, most of all. We had almost given up on you wanting to make a family of your own."

"I too was astonished," Thorin confessed. "I thought the pit I fell in was bottomless. I thought I was forever lost in darkness." Grey eyes shifted to the window. "And then I saw her. She was a child then. There was this instant need to protect her. Against what, I did not know." Thorin sat down and Frerin joined him. "She fell straight into the waves and I was frozen."

"And you saved her," Frerin added gently. "What I cannot understand is why you wish to marry the girl. In truth, you barely know one another."

"I suppose you can look at it like that, considering that you know little of our correspondence." The older brother smiled sardonically. "I know her like the back of my hand," he stated.

Responding with a smile of his own, Frerin inclined his head. "If you think it best. Then good luck once more. I am curious to meet the woman who has captured you so. She must be something indeed. You must hurry back or mother shall drive us all insane with her worrying."

"You have my words that I shall make haste," Thorin promised with a chuckle. "Mother will soon have another daughter to look after and fuss over."

"She is already in my prayers," Frerin joked. "That woman of yours had better prepare herself. Poor girl, she does not know what she's getting herself into."

"Is that supposed to mean something?" Thorin questioned. "What are you trying to tell me, brother?"

"Only that you are not the easiest person to get along with," the brother answered.

Ignoring whatever else was said, Thorin left the room. He ambled down the hall, slowly reaching the door leading to his mother's rooms. He knocked on the craved wood and a maid opened. He entered, pulling the wood structure after him. Not even glancing at the maid, who had flushed a bright shade of red, he opened his arms invitingly for his mother.

"Son!" an older woman exclaimed. Her dark grey eyes regarded him warmly and she accepted his hold. Shorter than him in height but sharing many features, Gemma was a decidedly handsome woman. Even now when she was no longer in her youth, her face still kept a great deal of grace. "Have you come to say goodbye to your old mother?"

"You are hardly old," Thorin gently corrected her. "And yes, I bid thee goodbye. At least for a few weeks."

"I cannot be parted from you for such long a time," Gemma complained good-naturedly. "Must you go?"

"You know I must." He placed a kiss on her forehead. "I have already waited long enough for this moment."

Gemma nodded understandingly. "Of course you have. My son," she said, catching his face between her palms. "I pray you find the happiness that you seek."She analyzed his face and sighed softly. "It seems like only yesterday you were no more but a child, playing with your brother and sister. And now look at you, all grown up."

"Such is the passing of time, mother," Thorin replied fondly. He eased her out of his hold and bowed formally. "When I am back I will be even more changed." And he would be; no longer without a companion was what he would become.

"I have the distinct feeling that you are not sorry at all," was what she said.

Her eyes registered a teasing smile on her son's lips and she shook her head. There was nothing to be done. She would have much preferred that he chose a woman from his own home. There were many fine ladies just waiting to catch his eye. Instead her son had gone and got himself involved with a person they barely knew anything about.

On the other hand, Thorin was as happy as he could be. He would soon see Lorena again. He thought back to the small child dripping water everywhere. She had changed from that time. But how much, Thorin wondered. Would he be able to recognize her once they met again? His heart told him he would. If not, she would, Thorin decided. After all of the two, he had changed less as far as appearance went.

"Mother, give me your blessings for it is time I left," Thorin requested.

"You have my blessings," the woman said.

_iv_

Lorena carefully braided her hair. Nimble fingers pulled the pieces in, twisting them according to the image in her mind. A small smile adorned her face. She was in such a pleasant mood; she had even noticed that she was late. Everyone else was most likely waiting for her arrival.

A knock on the door alerted her of an impending visit from another person. "Enter," she called out, her hands still bust braiding. She turned around, coming face to face with Yaviel. "Good morn, aunt. I am awfully sorry to keep you all. I confess to awakening late."

"Have you not slept well," Yaviel asked with blatant concern. "Do you have need of anything?"

"Rest your worries, aunt." The girl tied the end of the braid. "Indeed sleep eluded me most of the previous night. But I have no ailment. I am simply fretful."

"You look awfully pleased about it," the aunt countered. "Is this about the visit of that young man of yours?"

Laughter shook Lorena's frame. "He is hardly mine, dear aunt. I have no claim on the man." Though she wished she did. If anything, Lorena had been calling him hers in her mind for at least a couple of years now.

"I shall say nothing more of it." Yaviel took one of her niece's hands. "Let us be off then. They are waiting for us."

And indeed as the women entered all eyes turned to them. Barathion watched with apparent nonchalance as his wife took a seat to his right, while the girl placed herself between the Grand Marshal and the son of lord Helven. In reality, he was cautiously keeping his eyes from his daughter. More and more she resembled her late mother.

It ate at Barathion that he would lose her soon. He knew all about those letters she kept sending in the north. And he hated every single paper written by her that left his kingdom. She was growing up too soon for his liking. But he had no say in such matters. More accurately, he had no say in anything concerning her beside the fact that she was to live with him until marriage.

The man's eyes turned to slits as he thought about the suitor coming to take his daughter away. He was Thorin, son of a northern king. Well over Lorena's age, he was long past the age when he should have been married. And now he came for Barathion's daughter. He scoffed and promised to himself that Lorena would not be so easily given. Taking a gulp of his drink, Barathion though of plausible reasons to stop this occurrence. He had no wish to part from his daughter.

Looking upon her, the father thought she looked young indeed, not at all the nineteen years she claimed to have. Her mother too, may she rest well, had always looked to be younger. With a bit of luck, Thorin would see himself charmed by another lady and leave his daughter alone. Yes, that would be marvellous indeed, Barathion considered as the wine flowed down his throat.

"What has you thinking so hard?" Yaviel asked her husband, creases appearing on her forehead. It was indeed to be mourned whenever Barathion thought too long upon something. She watched his face, almost guessing. "Barathion, mind yourself."

"Leave me be, woman," he growled back at her quietly. "It is not for you to know what goes on in my head. Mind your rank."

Biting her lip in anger, Yaviel felt the taste of blood on her tongue. "So be it, husband." She huffed, turning to her son. She would rather talk to him anyway.

Noticing that something was amiss, Lorena blinked in confusion. She looked to the boy she believed to be her cousin as if to ask him. Beren, for it was thus his mother named him, shook his head. He too knew nothing. He mouthed something to her that she did not catch. Lorena signalled for him to repeat but Beren did not have the chance to as Yaviel began a conversation with him. Lorena was left wondering whatever he had meant. She could feel it in her bones that something was not quite right.

Little did she know of the plan filling Barathion's head. And if she had known, she would have probably lost consciousness. Lorena had decided long ago that she would marry the man who saved her. Why, when still a child she had once been asked by a lordling to pledge herself to him. To the great amusement of the crowed around them, Lorena had refused, stating that she was another's. The source of hilarity was, of course, the dreadfully serious expression she wore and the solemnity with which she spoke. The poor boy had been crushed. Not that Lorena had thought too long on it.

It was a little after the morning meal that Lorena caught Beren. "So, what did you want to tell me?" She found it odd that he checked around to see if anybody was listening while he shushed her.

"Be quiet or they'll hear you," he warned without any hint of a joke. "Believe me, you don't want that."

"What?" Lorena asked, confused. "Who'll hear me? Beren, I swear I know not what you speak of." She had spoken in hushed tones. Lorena was not one for taking useless risks, if she could help it.

"Mayhap, father is planning something. I do not know what but be careful. For both yourself and that man you love." Beren looked straight into her eyes. "Promise me you'll take care."

"Alright, I promise," she said, "though I am sceptic about this. Surely uncle would not do anything to harm me." She was wrong if her cousin's look was anything to go by. "Are you not being a bit harsh?"

"I'm being honest," Beren replied. "My father is hiding something. I know it. So watch yourself."

Shaking her head in disbelief, Lorena tried to find an excuse for her uncle. But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Perhaps he was indeed hiding something. If not, what was the explanation for his behaviour? The man was oddly tense. He even drank more than usual.

"I will trust you on this, Beren," she agreed. "I do not like it one bit, but something has to be going on. Can I count of your help?"

"Always," the boy responded with a smirk.

* * *

_**A/N: Part 2/3. Anything to say?**_


	6. And then you p3

_v_

Lorena lifted her skirts with both hands and ran along the paved road. She cursed lightly at the weight of the dress dragging her down, however she did not slow her pace. Whatever annoyance her clothes proved to be, the girl decided, she would deal with them later. As for the moment, Thorin had arrived and she was eager to see him. Make haste, her mind ordered her body.

She found him where he said he would be, her feet slowing down. A man of his word, Lorena though happily, as she spied him from behind a pillar. He was speaking to a much older man, short and bent. Lorena hardly paid any attention to the elder but for the short moments it took to assess him; she was more concerned with Thorin. He had changed, somewhat. No longer did he keep any of that boyish appearance of his youth. He looked a man. The heart in her chest leaped at the sight of him. Shyly, she stepped out from her hiding spot and ambled in his direction. And that was when he turned around.

While not attacked by any violent sensations at the sight, Thorin was undeniably happy to see Lorena. Of course he'd known it was her. Though time had added some inches to her frame, she remained ever reminiscent of the little girl he had fished out of the water. It was a strange thought that she should inspire in him the desire to settle down. Theirs hadn't been a case of love at first sight. Oh, he'd been fond of her from the first moment he held her trembling in his arms. But from there to wanting to wed her it had been quite a long road.

At first there was concern and a certain regard that prompted him to ask after her when he'd returned to the North. With time they'd established a correspondence that turned to be a long-standing tradition. He had practically seen her grow through those letters; it had been almost like being by her side. It could have been just as easy to adopt a paternal position; but he hadn't for some reason, whichever that was. What had been at first an easy friendship developed further, crossing into the sphere of tenderness. It had been gradual, a steady growth. Perhaps it held little of the thrill first loves did, but Thorin was well past losing his head over a woman. Yet that did not stop him from truly loving Lorena.

A slow ascent it had been for Lorena also. Not given to sudden proclamations of earth-shattering passion for someone and quite used to Thorin throughout her life, the young woman could not say she'd fallen in love with him in an instant. As a little girl she saw him as somewhat of an older brother, a mentor even. As she'd grown so had her admiration for him. And when she was of an age to discern her own feelings in a proper manner she could say she loved him. Mind you, she was not in love with him. For that one had to be in the close proximity to their chosen, yet the only contact between herself and Thorin were the letters.

Love was a much more tranquil affair for Lorena. It was not that she lacked passion. But she had never been inspired to that particular feeling. Quite down to earth she much preferred a union to a man capable of valuing her mind. Of course that if they suited physically too, it was all the better. She wasn't quite so unknowing that she though a marriage could work properly without the bedroom component, yet neither could it do so without trust and an agreement of intellects. After all beauty was measured in decades and could only last so long. Ingenuity suffered no such restrictions. A handsome face had never been enough for Lorena. To her any attachment was a full one. She did nothing in half-measures.

"I'd not expected to see you here," he said by way of greeting, wrapping her in a loose embrace. Indeed he had though he'd catch her somewhere in her guardian's home.

For a short moment Lorena held onto him. "But you are glad nonetheless," she ventured, her upturned face smiling at him.

"Glad indeed." Thorin let her go, resting his eyes on her visage. "I would like to introduce you to someone." Her nod prompted him into action. Stepping aside he regarded the old man he'd been speaking to. "Lady Lorena, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Master Balin. Master Balin, I present to you Lady Lorena."

Curtsying towards the elder, Lorena pasted a soft smile on her lips. This man had been Thorin's teacher as a child. "I am much obliged."

Balin bowed back to her, murmuring his pleasure. While not very vocal it could be seen he approved of his former student's choice. She looked to be a fine lass with a good head on her shoulders.

"Have you given though to what I've said?" The slight worry in his voice could have passed unobserved had Lorena not known him so well.

"Naturally," she replied, astonished he'd have to ask. "I have given it all due consideration. I shan't keep you waiting for my answer for it would be senseless and unpardonably rude. It is my belief that we should deal famously together."

"We've always been much in agreement, you and I," he uttered calmly after hearing her. "No doubt we shall do so even from now on. Might your guardian be persuaded to leave you in my care sooner rather than later?"

"Sooner I'd hope," Lorena imparted with an impish smile. "I dare say my aunt never refuses me anything and between herself and her husband she is more likely to have the last word of it."

"But I still have to appeal to your uncle," Thorin reminded her with a chuckle. It was not to be done otherwise no matter whom truly ruled over the household.

"I'm afraid that is so." Lorena hooked her arm through his in a gentle motion. "Can you bear it? For me?" The amusement in her voice tipped him of the true nature of her words.

"Silly of you to think otherwise," he countered just as wryly, no malicious intent included; in fact he offered little in the way of a proper answer. His mien had been a serious one that would have thrown off another who knew him not so well.

"Very," she agreed heartily, almost natural about it. She had rather enjoyed his subtle challenges. But she'd long known him to be a lover of irony and its uses. It was one of those finger qualities she enjoyed discovering in others. "I do believe we are off to a good start."

Thorin kissed the top of her head briefly. It was his tacit agreement if she was not mistaken. They'd suit.

_vi_

Of kind heart Yaviel might have been. But she would not allow herself to be stomped over. Gentleness was by no means weakness. Regarding her husband in cold fury, the Lady-Queen fairly snapped. It had been years through which she'd had to suffer his abuse. Barathion hadn't been excessively violent by way of fists. Words had been more cutting and less likely to leave visible bruises.

But bruised and battered she was; the wife of Barathion. Years on neglect and silent contempt had taken their toll on her. Every small jab and puncture had gathered to form a large wound, festering in hatred. So it was with little regret that Yaviel watched her Lord husband drink his poisoned mead. It would not be hours until the effects showed.

It had been despicable of him, yet Yaviel had to commend him. Barathion had played his role so well that even she had been taken in by it for some moments. Knowing him like she did the ruse became apparent and thus she moved in to block him in whichever way she could. The Lady was not above letting his drink poison. When Thorin had come to ask for her niece's hand, Yaviel had smiled kindly, encouragingly even. Lorena would be better off his wife than Barathion's daughter. Still surprise had taken over her when she'd seen Barathion act civil, even joyful at the proposal. That had made the alarms ring in her head. And right she had been to be alarmed.

Satisfaction burned deep inside her breast. It was not to be applauded that she wished the death of anyone however Yaviel had been pushed too far. It was clear that Barathion was on the path to destruction, so why not let him relieve everyone of a problem while foolishly thinking he was completing his plans.

"My dear, I do believe congratulations are in order," Yaviel whispered to Lorena, taking her hand as she did so. "Even now I can foresee you happy."

"I shan't have reason to be unhappy, aunt," Lorena pointed out good-naturedly.

"So sure of your happiness. Bless you child." Lorena reminded her of herself at her age, dreaming of a charmed ever after.

"No, not that." Lorena glanced at Thorin, sitting next to her uncle. "It is barely the knowledge that what I have is a partnership."

"You could not have chosen better."

"No, indeed! Aunt I do believe I chose wisely."

Nodding her head Yaviel threw a look at Barathion. Inwardly she cheered as she saw the contents of his cup growing less and lesser still. It served him right, it did. He would pay for all his sins with his life.

Meanwhile Lorena floated in her own elation. It was not so much the fact that she was getting married as to whom. It would be exceedingly surprising if she did not fall in love with her future husband. She had no misconception about the man. He was easy to anger but not unfair and quick to judge but not unkind. She wasn't perfect either, so she would not hold those above him. All in all he was a good man, deserving of the love she bestowed on him.

"Must you leave so soon?" Yaviel questioned if only to distract herself from her husband's ultimate fate.

"That is so. You see Thorin's family has never met me and they are ever eager to, he says. You have the advantage of them there aunt." Playfully winking, Lorena smiled. "I am curious too. Did you know that snow lasts many months there? We rarely have it here."

"Plain old rain is not good enough for you?" The mock indignation only served to make both women laugh. "I suppose you want an adventure. I cannot begrudge you that."

"I promise I shall write to you and Beren too should be like it." She meant to do just so. Lorena sneaked a glance towards her soon to be husband, his head inclined when their eyes mer.

"Pray don't bother. You will be too busy to think of writing letters, especially in the first few months," Yaviel intoned. "You shall be missed."

"I shall miss you too," Lorena confessed.

"But you'll be undeniably happy with your new life?" Yaviel patted her hand.

"Hardly new to me. I have known for a long time it was to come." She really had, Lorena thought.

"Believe me when I tell you that you shall be surprised. Let it bring you joy." Yaviel seemed so sure of it.

"Certainly it will." There was little doubt in Lorena's mind that it would not be so.

Her future, while not unexpected was thoroughly appealing. A woman of sense, Lorena had not expected any day of her life to be swept of her feet. Those were stories. Enjoyable, but just stories nonetheless.

Fiction offered a great reprieve, but one could not live locked in it. There was no such thing as perfect for them, yet that did not make happiness impossible. Strangely enough it made it more reachable. Contentment was made more human, therefore easier to understand and treasure.

"You will always have a place here, Lorena." Yaviel embraced the girl that had been almost a daughter o her. "I do wish you would visit still."

"Should my duties permit it, I will visit you monthly," Lorena joked. "I am glad to be getting married, yet a part of me is crying."

"Such is the way of the world, my darling. You let go of something and gain another. Do not fret and take it in small steps. You will do just fine."

"Do you really believe so?" Lorena was contented with the nod she got in reply. "I fuss over nothing. Apologies, I am simply overwhelmed at the moment." But so very happy too, she though.

* * *

_**A/N: There now, I have completed it. I leave whatever entails the happily ever after to your imagination, dear reader.**_


	7. Paint the Lines p1

_i_

The wreath of flowers rests heavily in her hands and Lorena tries her best to keep her eyes from spilling tears. "I thought I told you never to come here again," she whispers harshly. The petals are crushed under the weight of her fingers, some falling to the floor. The dismay is clear on her face. "I don't ever want to see you around. I'll call the police if necessary." It's not anything but a promise.

"And they'll do what?" The man smirks menacingly. "I've had enough of this foolish game daughter. It is time you came back home." He takes a few steps towards the young woman only to be halted by her outraged cries.

"I will never go back," she hissed without a hint of remorse. "And don't call me daughter! I'm not your child. My father died along with my mother and any foolish notions that I could be proud of my life."

The slap her father delivers is loud. He hardly puts any power behind it, after all his daughter is still that. And she is indeed too small to suffer the whole power of one of his hits. "Your possessions have been taken back home," he says without taking his eyes off of her livid face. "Do not make this difficult."

Realising she has little chance to argue and win, Lorena wipes away her tears. She doesn't say anything else but follows subdued after her father. The woman can't help but remember happier times when her mother had still been alive. Before she knew anything about the true nature of her father.

As a child Lorena had been the only child of Brenna and Lucius Ormsten. She'd been a happy child; never lacked a thing. Anything she wanted she got. Her parents were devoted to her and to each other. Still her father had a mistress on the side. No, it wasn't that he shared a relationship with another woman. Quite unbelievably, his mistress was more of an it than a her. It was, of course, his work, hidden away from the eyes of his daughter.

But Lorena was bound to find out at one point or another. And so she did. Barely a month after finishing high school, she and her mother were detained by armed men. With that Lorena found out about her father's dealings within inappropriate and highly illegal actions. More simply her parents were part of the mafia.

Brenna had been shot right in front of her daughter when her father failed to comply to someone's wishes. And she herself would have followed had it not been for a stroke of luck. Lorena simply refused to acknowledge her father's part in saving her. From that point on she refused to speak to her only living parent. In a short while she even moved out of the house and got into university.

At first Lucius had left her alone, thinking that she needed time. But now it is the right moment for her to come back. She is no longer a child who does not understand her position. She is a mature woman. "You are twenty-four, my daughter. Not a little girl anymore. You even have a job." At the strange look in her eyes he pats her hand which she sharply draws back. "You may continue it if you so wish, but mind that you don't really need it."

Keeping her eyes cast downward, Lorena ignores his words. She has no wish to talk to him and neither to listen. All that she wants if for this to be a bad dream and for herself to wake up and hear Gabriella in the kitchen making pancakes. Gaby is her roommate, which means they split the apartment rent and any other costs between the two of them. And that's when it enters her mind.

"Have you done something to Gabriella?" Usually her roommate is home before her. It seems only natural to expect her to be.

Lucius shakes his head. "Despite your belief I am not bent of bring suffering to others. Your friend is fine. You will be happy to hear that I will be paying your half of the rent until she finds a new partner."

She is hardly happy, Lorena decides a moment later. "You don't have to. I can pay for it myself," she points out. After all, she works.

No reply comes from her father, but they are already home. "Let me help you out," Lucius says and takes her hand. It's almost like old times.

And then Lorena is back in her old rooms. With a start she realises it's untouched. Every picture frame and book is in the place where she left it. Melancholically she sits at her old desk, her fingers tracing the keyboard of her computer. It's the same. And it bothers her. Why would her father keep it all like this? Lorena knows the answer, but she can't really accept it. As his child she can feel that he cares about her; just like he always has. But she doesn't want to be the daughter of such a man.

Sock clad feet rest on the fluffy carpet and from her position Lorena spies an old mirror. She stares at her reflection with apprehension. Her cheek is still faintly red. Hopefully by morning things would look better. For the moment she resigns herself with sleeping with her face attached to a cold compression.

Having calmed down a little, Lorena starts to really think about her situation. She could run away again. But what good would come out of it? Lucius would find her and drag her back. And for all her negativity and distress over living with her father, she knows she hasn't really broken links with him before. Even when she stayed with Gaby, she knew he was always watching. In a way it had been comforting if rather unsettling. Despite everything, she can't do anything to be forever away from him short of killing herself. And Lorena rather likes being alive.

Besides he does not treat her abominably. She has seen him do far worse than offer a weak slap. One of her legs jumps up and down rapidly, a sure sign of the indecision keeping her on edge. In the end she chooses the only way she can really abide, which is to stay. Lucius is not a perfect father, and certainly not a good man; but he is her father. In spite of all his faults, he is her parent.

"You're back!" Lorena hears a familiar voice drifting to her ears. "I've been waiting forever for you to come back."

Turning around, she comes face to face with her cousin, Bilbo. "Hey shrimp," she greets him with a simple smile. He hates being called shrimp even though for a full grown man he is rather short. In fact he's only a head taller than her and she sports a five foot frame.

"Don't start," Bilbo warns her playfully.

_ii_

"Children, children, settle down," Lorena demands, albeit softly of her class. They are good kids, and have very much energy too. It usually makes for a challenge. "Have you brought your assignments?"

One of the more daring boys sits up and Lorena can't help smiling at him. "I did, Miss Lorena," he calls out. On small legs he runs to the front of the class and hands it to her. His cheeks blush a vivid shade of red and he's caught somewhere between shyness and pleasure.

Smiling encouragingly at the boy, Lorena outstretches her hand. She takes the card and glances at it. "Oh, this is so very nice. Thank you Fili."

In his wake all the other children hurry to her desk and deposit all sorts of brightly coloured drawings. Lorena takes care to look at all of them and compliment the little artists. Happy with the attention lavished upon them and their skills the children return to their places and continue with the scheduled activity.

Satisfied with the results, Lorena stands up and ambles towards the desks. She peers into the many notebooks and nods her head in approval. "Very good," she notes in a cheerful voice.

Since moving in with her father, Lorena has acquired a pattern of sorts. She avoids her parent as much as possible, and instead opts to keep company with Bilbo or attend her work as a teacher. There are indeed many things to be done and almost never enough time. She takes a step back and that's when the bell rings. Abandoning their work the children jump up, stuffing papers, crayons, pens and notebooks into bags. Lorena watches them all hurry out the door and is about to prepare for her own departure when she notices that not all the children have left.

Fili's still here. He stands in front of the lockers with a frown on his face. His small hands clutch a piece of paper, and the fingers tremble slightly. He seems unable to decide what to do, so Lorena feels that she must engage him. "What's the matter Fili?" He does not respond, only bites his lip. "You can tell me."

Instead of telling her, the boy shuffles closer and pushes the paper into her hands. Lorena raises her eyebrow in silent winder. Unfolding it, she hurriedly throws her eyes over its contents. It's a note from Fili's mother. Apparently she's unable to pick her sons up today but she mentions that their uncle would be about to pick them up. However he would only be able to come half an hour after class has ended. There is a plea to keep the kids company if she can spare the time.

"Would you like to wait with me for your uncle?" Lorena asks, carefully adding a smile. The smile widens at his nod and flush. "Great because I'm planning to remain here anyway. Where is your brother?"

There is not much Lorena knows about Fili's family. They are private people. Of course, she does know about the younger brother, Kili. But not much besides the fact that he is indeed the younger brother of Fili.

"Second garde," Fili informs her, finally looking into her face. He smiled tentatively. "He's probably waiting for me already."

Lorena must confess that it is strange. During classes this boy is so lively. One can scarcely recognise him as he is now. "Alright. Then let's not keep him waiting."

Impulsively the young woman takes Fili's hand. However she does not lead. Lorena lets Fili take her about, walking lightly behind him. Reaching the younger brother's class, Lorena finds another subdued child. He is darker in looks than Fili, whose hair might as well have been made out of gold.

Standing in the doorway, she watches the interaction between the brothers. They seem almost cautious. For some reasons Lorena feels suddenly sick. Why are they acting so unnatural? Could it be that something is indeed wrong?

"Hello, Kili," she greets the boy, waving slightly. "Have you been waiting long?" The child shakes his head and Lorena in once again perplexed. Before she can say anything else, a bolt of lightning flashes, accompanied by thunder. Both boys jump at the sound. Then it all makes sense. They are afraid of storms. Dimly Lorena remembers hearing Fili complain about storms, stating that he disliked then greatly.

Walking behind them, Lorena encircles the boys within her arms. She smiled down reassuringly and both of them relax against her. It's almost amusing, she thinks. "Boys," she murmurs. "They would rather tremble away than admit to being scared."

"Am not scared," the younger of the two assures her with a trembling voice. Fili echoes him. They sound the same.

The response she has picked dies on Lorena's lips. He head slightly turned towards the room registers that there is someone else there too. The brothers break free from her hold and run across the classroom to the man they call uncle. Straightening Lorena nods at the man, pasting a smile on her face. He is clearly related to them through their mother. The resemblance is easy to observe. Amusement spark within Lorena at the sight of the boys clutching him tightly.

"Sorry I'm late," the man spoke in a deep, pleasant voice. "Got stuck in the traffic." His explanation doesn't really matter to the young ones. He looks up and meets Lorena's eyes. "Thank you for looking after them miss," he lets it trail off, clearly expecting her to introduce herself.

"Miss Lorena," Fili supplies helpfully before his teacher can say anything. "She my teacher." He seems proud of that.

Snapping out of her shock, Lorena gives Fili a look. "I am Lorena Ormsten," she finally submits, her hand rising.

"Thorin Oakenshield," he states simply, taking her hand and shaking it. "Nice to finally meet you. Fili talk only about you all day."

"I don't!" young Fili protests, making the adults laugh. He seems put out but doesn't say anything more, just makes a face at Kili.

* * *

_**A/N: Well, I hope this grabbed your interest. Anyway feel free to tell me what you think. :)**_


	8. Bilateral Exchange of Sentiment

**_i._** Balin exited the tent with sure steps, his old back protesting at the straight posture. There was a small smile on his face. Things had gone well for them this time. Yes, the old man thought, things had gone exceptionally well. From the corner of his eye he caught a small form darting about. His smile grew wider. That must have been the subject of their discussion and what he had come here for.

The old warrior thought on that statement. The tribes had started forming alliances in the aftermath of the Crossfield Wars. It was their way of keeping peace and bringing prosperity about. This was no different. It was up to Balin to strike a deal with Odo. And he had done so admirably. Balin had convinced Odo to allow his eldest daughter to wed into his tribe; furthermore she was perfect for their leader's grandson.

Thror wanted his oldest grandson to marry and carry on their legacy. And where would he find a better bride than Odo's daughter? Using a combination of flattery and barging skills, Balin had highlighted the advantages of such a marriage. Odo had simply nodded his head and said that they should step outside and have a look at his oldest daughter. It was moments later that a slight girl ran towards the tent. Her umber braid swung behind her and unsure hazel eyes regarded her father. She had a pleasant face and looked to be healthy but her small stature would only serve to confuse people; most would be inclined to think her a child.

"Is this her?" asked Balin, distracting the girl. He watched her turn to him and offered a crooked smile. "What thy name be, child?"

"Lorena it is." Her face relaxed in an inexpressive state. Be it genuine lack of emotion, shock or an inbred sense of diplomacy, Balin could not tell. Whichever the case, the young woman before him would certainly make for a authentic impression of a statue.

**_ii._** "Father, you wished to see me?" She asked more out of duty than curiosity for Lorena well knew why her father had wanted her here. She was aware that it was time for her to be of use to her family and tribe.

Odo knelt before his daughter. "You are a woman grown now, my sweet. It is time for you to make your own life. I have decided you are to marry into Durin's clan. It is a respectable family and a strong ally. You will want for nothing in their care and you shall be happy. Thror's grandson will make you a good husband."

"Of course, father," Lorena relied in a small voice. A knot stopped in her throat as she tried to swallow while Odo told her she would be leaving in two days' time. Enough to say her goodbyes and assemble her dowry. "I shall see to everything personally."

"There's a good lass," Odo offered, taking her small hand in his. "You do that then. Say, friend, is she to your liking?"

"Indeed she is. I am sure that she will make a fine bride for Thror's grandson." Balin extended his elbow to the girl, motioning for her to come closer. "Take a walk with me lass, for I know you have questions on your mind."

"Thank you." She looped her arm through his and they walked away from her father's tent. For a few moments she was silent, struck by the suddenness of it all. Nary a thought travelled her mind. "What is the name of the man I shall marry? What is he like?"

"Thorin he was named by his father. As a boy he was a determined little lad. A true leader, from an early age he dominated those around him, he knew how to ride a horse before he could even walk. Now he is a fine warrior, fearless in battle and fair in judgement. Do not worry lass, you shan't be unhappy by his side," Balin assured the girl. He watched for her reaction.

She nodded her head but did not speak. They walked in silence as Lorena thought over the information she had been given. Her feet moved without her mind, she was too busy thinking that in two days she would be gone from the midst of her family. She would be placed in some stranger's hands and be forced to live with him. "Does he know?"

"Yes," came the simple answer. "He is most pleased by the match." It was a small lie, an innocent lie. Balin could hardly tell the poor girl that Thorin cared nothing for the marriage. The boy was willing to do his duty but no more. Unfortunately Thorin had learned that involvement with another person in too strong a manner could bring destruction. Had he had a better experience of it, Balin was certain the boy would not be so reluctant to the match, especially with what he was getting out of it.

**_iii. _**Parting from the senior, Lorena ran back to her mother's tent. The woman looked up at her daughter's pale face. "What ails you, my little dear?"

"He's giving me away," the young woman cried in frustration. Silence befell her. Crumbling at her mother's feet she took a handful of the warm furs. "I want to stay." She didn't want to go.

"Stop acting foolish," the woman commanded. "Get up to your feet and quit this nonsense." Seeing her words did not reach the girl, she breathed in harshly. "No daughter of mine is allowed to act thus. On your feet!" Yet at no point had she been unkind. A mother's gentleness still lingered, just there.

Sensing that her tears would change nothing, Lorena stood on shaky legs. She had no hope. A more daring girl would have refused the match and be done with it. Lorena was not one such girl and acted in accordance to her nature. Her lips sealed themselves in a thin line. "Yes, mother." Her thick voice held all the resentment she would allow herself to feel towards her mother, her father and the _unfairness_ of it all. It seemed very, very wrong that they would give her away just like that.

Her half hearted agreement was all that was needed.

_(And she gave that grudgingly enough, if only to please her parents and not appear a spoiled child in the face of her clan and allies.)_

One last time, her mother wrapped her safely in a sturdy embrace. It was the older woman's way of saying goodbye to her daughter. "You've stopped being a child. You will soon be a woman in the true sense of the word. But do not forget, no matter what happens, you shall remain my daughter always. Your father's daughter too."

**_iv. _**The mare cantered at a steady pace. Lorena held onto the beast's mane with a strong grip – perhaps stronger than necessary. She ought not to provoke the creature with severe treatment, yet her fingers refused to uncurl.

_(Not yet sure what to make of her companion, she hardly said a couple of words during the winding hours.)_

Lorena bit the inside of her cheek as her eyes landed on the tall grass they were – almost – flying through. A strange sort of ache had settled in her stomach at the thought of meeting the man that would become _her man_. It sounded wrong even in her own head to call him hers. The man was no more hers than she was his. Not yet, anyway.

And never really, if Lorena had her way. But she didn't and that was that. In the end, the girl had to convince herself – after a long, tiresome fight with her slightly outraged self – that she could do nothing about it. Her eyes had stopped watering about five miles back. Her throat no longer hurt with exertion, dry sobs having deserted her even farther back. She was on the journey to a new life. Some might even make an adventure out of it. But not Lorena; she was no adventurer.

**_v._** Thorin watched, hidden from view, as his bride was brought by old Balin. He saw her climbing down from her horse, absently taking in the details she presented. A wee thing, she looked a leaf ready to be blown over by any sudden gust of wind.

_(He would later discover that the woman, despite her diminutive stature and insignificant physical strength, was much tougher than she seemed. That was, of course, the very nature of women, Thorin would conclude.) _

Extricating himself from the shadows, the man stepped towards Balin and her – she who was to be his wife. Stormy eyes flashed. Silently, Thorin challenged the woman to look up at him. He wanted to see her eyes. One could be well judged by their eyes – twin pools told so many stories.

"Lad, 'tis good of you to come meet us," the elder said upon seeing Thorin approaching. He turned to whisper something to the woman, who finally lifted her head.

Caught in the dark stare levelled at him, for one short moment, Thorin forgot to breathe. Her gaze was so direct. So very, very expressive. This woman knew not to guard her feelings. They'd given him an innocent, Thorin thought with some surprise. It was unexpected and he did not know how to react to this. Regaining his equilibrium, Thorin inclined his head in a nod of acknowledgement.

She was watching him too, intently but shyly. Emotions flickered across her face, one after another in rapid succession. Thorin detected surprise, fear, dismay, fascination, bashfulness amongst others. It was somewhat relieving to know her every thought, however unwittingly she gave herself away. He'd not have to worry about her hiding things from him; those eyes would always speak the truth.

Thror interrupted the quiet scene as he ambled towards his grandson and those who had arrived. Thorin took a slight step back, unsure of his actions. Thror threw him not one glance. Instead the ruler advanced towards Odo's daughter. He took her face in his large hands and held it up towards him. "You'll do," he said in a loud manner that showed both approval and certitude, after closely inspecting the woman for almost a full minute.

**_vi. _**Curious faces gathered around the chieftain's tent. The people whispered in hushed tones, spinning tales and stories about Odo's daughter. Some regarded her with kind eyes, others, more reluctant, watched her with suspicion. But all of them held close to their hear pity for the woman. True enough, she would marry Thror's grandson and one day lead them alongside her husband; yet it was well known that Thorin loved his sweetheart still. Loved her through everything that had brought them apart; despite all that conspired to keep them separated.

_(Thorin would always love her, some said. Others were of a mind that it would pass.) _

**_vii. _**Inside the tent Lorena sat before her new family. She felt oddly like an object; prodded and poked and scrutinized. They were determining her worth with cold, calculating eyes. She wanted to be swallowed whole by the ground; to be free of this embarrassment. But it was not to be. Keeping her lips shut and her eyes cast to the ground, Lorena endured every glance and silent appraisal. She prayed for it to end soon; she pleaded with the gods to give her just a little more strength. She implored the deities to have mercy of her, just this once.

The only stares Lorena could abide came from two small lads. They were most likely brothers as they clung to the same woman who shifted her attention from the children to the stranger. One of her sons had golden hair, the other raven locks. They all shared the same grey coloured eyes. The colour of rain, Lorena's mind whispered – a colour she liked.

Tensing she dared a look towards Thorin. He was looking straight, eyes expressionless. Reining in the impulse to show her frustration, Lorena returned her gaze to the floor. She listened closely to Thror's speech, nodding when her cue came.

"You shall move with the lad to his tent," the chief was saying. "There is no need to postpone this. After all, you came here as his bride."He nodded as if to strengthen his statement. Her agreement was not needed and not heard when pronounced.

An auspicious start, Lorena reflected, would have hurt her just as much. A favourable opinion of these strangers would have implied that she had no difficulty breaking from the only life she'd ever known – which was as farther from true as it could ever be; she was finding it exceptionally hard to let go. Lorena was a creature of habit. Change did not stand well with her – not of any kind and certainly not this which brought her only pain. Closing her eyes, she willed everything to be a dream; she tried to wake herself up. It was all to no avail.

This was no dream. _(And there was no chance of escaping her predicament through yearning and praying. But Lorena supposed she could dream, and dream she did.)_

**_viii. _**The pitter-patter of rain would drive her insane. Lorena scowled at the straw on the ground and at the chilliness of the atmosphere. Gently she combed her fingers through her hair, untangling the knots. Stiffness made her hand hurt with every small tug.

The tent flap rose slowly and her husband – she would soon get used to thinking him that, she promised to herself – entered with sure steps. This was his domain. The straws crunched under the weight of him and his strides. He looked a giant ready to claim whatever he wished in his possession.

Outside something like a brawl seemed to be going on.

No longer under the stern gazes of unknown people, Lorena allowed her eyes to climb upwards his form. She did not smile, she did not frown. Lorena simply stared as if she'd never before seen a man. And she hadn't. Not ever. Not like she did just now. None of the ones she'd seen before had been _hers. _He on the other hand was; Thror's grandson was _her man._

Tearing through the distance between them, Thorin knelt before her, just shy away of touching her. He gripped her chin and captured her eyes with his. "Listen well, girl," he grounded out, a touch impatient. "You are under my care now. Heed me and yours will be a life of comfort. Don't and you'll bear the consequences." The last part was a whisper against her temple as the man loosened the material of her dress, heaving the fabric away. "Do you understand?" he asked, startling grey eyes resting on her uncovered figure.

"I understand," Lorena answered and watched as a small, fleeting smile touched his lips. She smiled in reply, satisfaction coursing through her veins. She'd just made her husband pleased with her.

"Good. Now come here," he told her, pulling the woman up with such ease, she wondered if he knew she weighted more than a simple feather. Without words he guided Lorena to a heap of furs and blankets and lowered her to the ground. He divested with quick moves and, in the darkness, joined her.

Trembling at the novelty and downright awkwardness of it all, Lorena closed her eyes at the brush of naked skin to hers. Thorin grunted, an unintelligible sound in the back of his throat. Lorena was grateful for the dark covering everything for it was too much. The slow built and the violent crash left anticipation and dread mingling together inside the woman's chest. It was all so very strange, unfamiliar and scary – and a little exciting, though Lorena would never admit to thinking it. Being like she was, in the arms of a stranger, was unsettling, yet there was no danger in sight.

Feeling the thick furs being pulled over her, Lorena mumbled her thanks as the body of her husband broke from hers. She shivered at the loss but made no move to prolong the connection. Turning on her side, she listened to the rain. Warm and exhausted she fell in blessed slumber.

**_ix. _**A shriek of terror tore itself from someone's throat. Despite her alarmed state, she pushed the young children behind her, through the tent flaps. Lorena bid them to quieten down, her hands gripping an empty scabbard. It would not be of much use but she could still defend herself better with it than without.

"Stay here," she whispered to the boys. Two pairs of familiar grey eyes trailed after her as she approached the entrance. "I am only going to look for your uncle." She'd learned that they were the nephews of Thorin, children of his sister, Dis.

True to her word, Lorena tried to pinpoint the location of her husband. She could barely see beyond the groups of fighting men. They were so very many! How was she to find her man in this crush? That was if Thorin hadn't gone and gotten himself killed. That man of her was stubborn enough to do it, the Gods knew it. But even so, he was her man and she would not sit by idly, worrying over his fate. Just one glance of him was enough to set her at ease.

Fumbling with the sheath, Lorena peered around. She had to find him. He shouldn't be so hard to detect, not with his height and bearing. Panic gripped her when she came up with nothing from her search. As she was about to inch closer into the fray, a muscular hand grabbed the back of her neck yanking her hard.

Lorena turned around, ready to deal a harming strike to the one who dared attack her. She turned, bringing the scabbard around with her only to be faced with a blood covered Dwalin. She knew him; a good warrior, although brusque and not at all civil some might say. He gave her an angry stare, before ordering her back to the tent with a rough shove. "You'll catch your death, lass," he said loudly, his voice making the disapproval clear. "Better watch the little ones."

**_x._** _(She would never be less infuriating, Thorin comprehended in the years to come. It would just be him getting more used to her. The only change would be the dependency that would develop between them.)_

"Are you daft, woman?" The earth seemed to shake at the raw power and fury in Thorin's voice. Lorena certainly knew that she did.

Kili burrowed deeper into her embrace as if to protect his ears from all the yelling and Fili stared wide-eyes at his uncle. They could not understand the reason of Thorin's anger but that did not stop their wondering. Or their fear for that matter – Lorena felt them cling to her with earnest astonishment and panic. Levelling a stern glare at her man, she hissed trough gritted teeth, "There is hardly need for you to yell. You'll frighten the young ones."

Returning her fierce look, Thorin growled like a challenged beast. "Fili, Kili, run to your mother," she said harshly, not even looking at the boys as they scampered away.

"That was unnecessary," Lorena muttered. "I could have looked after them a while longer." But that had been the point of it, she knew – Thorin wanted her alone. And she wanted to evade the scolding, dearly so.

"If I hadn't seen you," Thorin began, his voice laced with cool irritation, "you would have been dead, foolish woman. Do you realise that? Do you? Of all the stupid things to do, did it have to be this? Dwalin was close to you. You were lucky in that; lucky that we both noticed you there."He saw her look away, a petulant expression marring her features. Gritting his teeth, he stepped closer to her. Grabbing her shoulder, he hauled her up, his manner brutal. "You could have died."

"I didn't," Lorena retorted, trying to shake his grip off. "And believe it or not, I hadn't planned on putting myself in a dangerous situation. I simply wanted–"

"I don care what you wanted!" bellowed Thorin, clearly exasperated. "I told you to stay safe, I believe. Are you under the impression that I will accept disobedience? Be thankful it was Dwalin to reach you first. If it had been me," he let the rest trail off. His fingers were digging into her shoulders again.

Of course, Lorena had known she was to be having this conversation sooner or later. It really hadn't been her intention to vex Thorin. "I'm sorry. Can you not let this go?"

"No! Damn you," Thorin raised his voice, shaking her violently. "If ever I catch you disregarding my words again, you will get more than a few angry yells."

A cold shock travelled down Lorena's spine at the threat. She crumbled under the pressure of his push, falling to her knees. Thorin scoffed at her and stormed out of the tent, cursing as he went. Lorena allowed her tears to spring, trailing wet lines down her cheeks. She was too full.

_(Later, much later, Thorin would come back. The sun had set. He would rub the abused skin soothingly, his eyes asking her forgiveness; not for the harsh talk – which she rightly deserved.)_

**_xi. _**Chilly morning air streamed trough the premises making Lorena shiver in her sleep. Murmuring incoherently, she shifted, turning towards the only source of heat available – her man. Still caught between the layers of dreaming and waking, she felt the relaxed muscles under her fingers. Her eyes opened reluctantly. A sigh escaped dry lips, artless and true.

Tracing her fingers over the rounding curve of his shoulder, Lorena urged herself back to sleep. But it seemed not to be her fate. She was to lie awake, thinking of the man sharing her – _their_ bed.

_(Lorena noticed that lately many things had started being their, not hers or his. It was a reflex, she supposed, of their being together. It was not longer _I and you_ but _us. _She thrilled at the thought, excitement bubbling up inside her.)_

She'd heard – not before many weeks and months of prodding – about the woman Thorin loved. Or rather, the one he had loved. Lorena had convinced Dis to tell her – not much though. The other woman had been Thorin's friend since boyhood and they had been sweet on one another for years. The tragedy was that the girl had succumbed to fever. Within a fortnight she was gone. Dead as dry leafs.

If not for that, Thorin might have married the lass. _(And while it was not right and Lorena felt shame for even considering it, she could not help thinking that if that girl had lived to become a woman Thorin would have not been hers. She quite liked Thorin being hers.)_

For his part, Thorin had mentioned the woman only once. It had been absentminded and not intentional, but he'd shared part of the story with Lorena. She did not resent the woman, or Thorin's continued affection for her. However she wished he'd be let go. The living were not meant to be tied to the dead, not the deceased to those alive.

**_xii. _**Heavy snow covered the smooth expanding fields. The children were playing outside, chasing each other around. They threw snowballs and yelled. Some issued out commands, while other followed instructions. They were warriors ready to defend their families.

Close to the crackling fire, Thorin observed his woman quietly. Her small frame had thickened some in the past moons. The reason was glaringly obvious. She practically glowed with it. And did it look good on her. Thorin smiled a secret smile, filled with pride. Indeed, he had reasons for it. Her round middle was covered in thick woollen clothing and grey furs hung off her shoulders. Thorin's appreciative stare rose to her face.

It was a small, delicate face, framed by brown hair. Warm eyes stared at him in confusion. Thorin's eyes returned to his food. He busied himself with the rabbit she'd cooked. But his thought had not yet left her. Finishing with his meal, he threw the leftovers outside for the dogs, afterwards dipping his hands in the frosty water.

Gesturing for her to join him, Thorin sat on the furs strewn over the ground. He eyed his wife, her movements sluggish but not without their usual cheeriness. When she was next to him he pulled her gently in his lap. "Are you warm enough?" he asked, a tender, time strengthened interest for her well-being taking over. He felt her nod and relaxed, letting himself fall back. Lorena descended with him, her head on his shoulder.

**_xiii. _**Pacing inside his father's tent, Thorin stopped only to glare at a smiling Dis. "How can you be merry when I am all but pulling my hair out in despair?"

Rolling her eyes, the sister snorted softly. "Because I am a woman," she replied as it that explained everything. In a way it did. "You worry over naught."

Ignoring her comforting manner, the man scowled at the tent entrance. His vision was assaulted by the burly outline of his father. The aged warrior gave a curious look to his son but wisely kept to himself. Thorin was slowly being driven insane. "Why are you not there with her?" he snapped at Dis, who was cradling her younger son.

"She does not have need of me!" exclaimed Dis, somewhat miffed. "Mother is with her. The healer too, Not to mention many others. Have a little faith, brother."

Dis had always been impertinent. It was part of her charm. But at that very moment Thorin was ready to strangle her. He just wanted to see that woman of his well and alive with a babe in her arms. But it was taking so damn long. And Thorin had never been the most patient man. It merely aggravated the situation that he was not allowed anywhere near his tent after he'd been kicked out.

He willed his mother, the healer, anyone really, to come and put an end to his torture. Why was no one coming? Once more, a scowl decorated his face. It was lost when a wail pierced the silence.

_(Thorin would never learn patience and Lorena would never mention it to him.)_

**_xiv. _**Heaving a sigh, Lorena peered at the bundle in her arms. She could barely see through the weariness but a smile graced her face. A tiny, red face was visible, still wrinkled and rather ungainly. But oh, the babe was so beautiful. He was a blessing. He was a miracle. He was a part of her – and a part of Thorin, the fruit of their love. Tears prickled her eyes and the smile on her face grew. She already loved this petite person so much; her son.

A whoosh alerted her of Thorin's arrival. Her eyes still kept to her son as she greeted her husband. "Come see him. Come see our son," she called to him, proud and blissful.

Knees touching the ground, Thorin leaned over to get a better look at the child in Lorena's arms. His heart squeezed painfully at the sight. "He is," Thorin stopped, momentarily at a loss. Was there a word appropriate for it? "Perfect," he decided to use in the end. Smoothing her damp hair back, Thorin pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Thank you for everything," he said, sincerity pouring from every word. He gestured to their surroundings and to their child. _(And that was when _she _finally let go.)_

"Thank you," she returned, and they fell in companionable silence. Lorena hummed softly to the newborn, rocking her arms gently. She looked worn out; she felt worn out. But she was not ready to sleep, to take her eyes off of her child.

**_xv. _**Frerin, Thorin's younger brother, had taken the children out to learn to ride horses. Lorena had agreed only after Thorin insisted, not suspecting for a moment that her man had ulterior motives. She was left alone with him. Concentrating on chopping vegetables, Lorena did not spare Thorin a glance. He would have to amuse himself. And amuse himself he would.

Snaking a hand around her torso, Thorin pulled Lorena into him, earning himself a distressed gasp of protest. "Thorin! If you want any food for supper, you'll have to let me go." He did not. Instead, he took her knife away, throwing the sharp object in a corner where it would be forgotten. Lorena tried to pry herself away. "Husband–" She was promptly shut up with a pair of lips smacking hers.

"Leave that," Thorin ordered. He hooked his fingers into the material of her thin, summer dress and dragged it off her body. He'd almost ripped the thing up in the process but chanced his mind at the last possible moment. His woman would not look kindly upon his destroying of her dresses. The Gods knew why these women cared so much for those things.

Nimble fingers responded to his actions. Lorena loosened the straps and pulled his shirt off. "Could this not wait?" It was fond exasperation that tinged her words. "Imagine if the children where here." She laughed lightly as he attacked her neck with tiny, sharp nibbles.

"They aren't," Thorin whispered into the hollow between her neck and shoulder. They crashed to the ground a tangle of limbs and jerky movements. Passionate touches passed from him to her and vice versa.

"They are most certainly not," Loren agreed. She nuzzled his neck, a sign of clear affection. "It was rather clever of you." So she'd finally realised.

Grunting in reply, Thorin pushed into her body. Between raising a gaggle of children and the various responsibilities assigned to them, there was never enough time to enjoy bedding his woman. Such moments when he could take his bliss with her were not to be missed. His head slammed into her shoulder and they both shook in unison. Sweat coated skins stuck to each other, both people frozen in their moment of bliss.

Grey met brown, Thorin stared into Lorena's eyes. "I love you, woman," he said, lips almost touching hers.

"And I love you."

_(It might have been years late, this confession. But it was well worth the wait. Besides, Lorena reminded herself, men were slow creatures. 'Twas better not to rush them.)_

* * *

**_A/N: Loosely based on the Grey miniseries from chapter 3. Feel free to refresh your memory if you must and most of all, enjoy! :) _ **


	9. Paint the Lines p2

_iii_

Despite her innate optimism, Lorena thinks she should have seen this coming. After all, this is her life and nothing ever goes right for her. Sure, there are periods when she is free of worry and stress and generally able to enjoy herself. But then there are the many more and frequent instances in which she's someone's pawn. So yes, Lorena supposes she should have seen this coming.

"I can't believe this is happening to me," she says not at all intentional. "I just can't! Am I being unreasonable here for just wanting something normal in my life?" She sounds whiny even to her own ears so Lorena refuses to even think about how she sounds to him.

"You're overwhelmed, I understand," Thorin states in that calm manner of his that sets her on the edge. He watches her and it's both infuriating and maddening.

"You think?" she asks, her voice rising along with the colour in her face. Her hands automatically shot up from her lap in a gesture meant to show her aggravation.

"Not so loud," he hisses. They both glance to the two boys in the back, asleep one against the other. "There's no need for exaggerating."

"Don't you even dare!" Lorena warns with a bite in her tone. "I am not exaggerating, I'm not. You lied to me. And I can't ignore that. Were you even going to tell me?"

"Were you?" Thorin doesn't flinch when she turns her glare on him. He sighs, breaking their staring contest. "You were going to find out at some point." Safe reasoning.

"How can I possibly trust you? You couldn't even tell me you work for my father. Who knows what other dark secrets you keep locked away." Silence fills the car, hanging between them like a weight. "I can't," Lorena finally adds. "I can't."

"When I met you," Thorin starts, hands clenching on the wheel, "I had no idea you were his daughter. I didn't even know he had children." It's a lousy excuse. "And when I finally found out, well, I was already so deep in that it didn't even matter."

"It matters, Thorin. It matters," her voice breaks the words apart. "You should have told me. You should have told me."

"What do you want me to say?" Anger forces hi face in a neutral mask. "That I'm sorry? Is that it? Do you want an apology?"

The car veers to the left. Lorena doesn't dignify his outburst with a reply, so Thorin speeds along the driveway. This woman is driving him insane. And it's exactly the reason for which he hasn't said anything about working for her father all this time. She terrifies him in certain kind of way. The fear he feels is more than the cold chill a gun pointed straight at his head elicits. Because the bullet can be pulled out, and the wound eventually stops gushing blood and closes, leaving just a scar. But with her, the cut is far deeper; the damage lasts forever. Thorin fears that he won't be able to pull himself back together once she finally breaks him.

"Are we there yet?" Fili's small voice asks from behind them. The boy nudges his brother a little, not enough to wake him though. Kili is dead to the world, in his own dimesion.

"Not yet," Lorena answers, softening her voice as much as she can. "We still have a bit to go." She looks out the window, hand supporting her chin.

"Settle down. Go back to sleep and by the time you wake up, we'll be there," Thorin supplies. The review mirror shows his nephew doing just that.

And that's how it goes for the rest of the way. The children sleep. Lorena keeps quiet and Thorin tries his very best not to go into a rage. Time can't pass fast enough for all of them. Fortunately, they reach their destination before another argument starts.

Lorena jumps out of the car. She presses kisses to the cheeks of Fili and Kili, both of whom promptly pull back with twin embarrassed expressions on their faces. She eyes Thorin with suspicion but takes her bag from his outstretched hand. Then Lorena waves at the brothers who climb the steps.

"You don't have to take me home. I can get there on my own." Rebellion, she think, is never intelligent, but God does it feel good. So she provokes him without any other thought but that. It feels good.

"Get in the car," he orders softly, voice devoid of emotion. When she fails to follow his instructions, simple as they are, Thorin just snaps at her. "Get in the car."

"You can't just order me around," Lorena protests. She won't allow him to order her around because she does have her pride. Damn it, why is everything so difficult?

Fed up with her antics, Thorin grabs her hand, not roughly, just firmly, and pushes her back in the car. The door slams and he takes his own seat. The engine starts with a roar. There is a look on her face, like she might start berating him any moment now. "Shut up. Just shut up."

It's so very unnerving. "I hope you realise I don't want to see you too soon after this." He slams the brakes and she yelps at the sudden soar she does towards the windshield.

"Will you just stop? For heaven's sake," Thorin mutters. "I don't want to hear it. Not now." He really can't hear this from her.

"Too bad," Lorena counters. "Too bad because I want you to hear this. I swear to God that if you dare approach me, I will make you regret it." And she's utterly serious.

A lot of time; that's what she needs. Desperately needs it actually. Lorena doesn't think she can be around this man until she makes up her mind about some things. And she cannot do it if he is around her. Thorin is distracting. That, and she doesn't have enough room to be shocked around him. And she wants that; a little room to be shocked and scared and feel all those negative feelings.

After that she might be able to fix this, whatever their problem is. Lorena knows she can fix it if she is given what she needs.

_iv_

Warm, brown eyes take Thorin in with a reflexive tenderness that disarms him. "Hey," he greets, offering her the plastic cup filled with tea.

"Hey," she parrots, fingers wrapping around the cup. She's surprised she even lasted two weeks. But somehow she had. Two weeks without him have been hell for her. "Come on in."

Bilbo makes himself scarce and her father is somewhere in his study. Lucius has simply looked perturbed at his daughter's distress this past couple of weeks. It's not unknown to him that his daughter has tied herself quite deftly to one of his men. The father is actually grateful for it.

"I've been thinking about this," she starts, her voice unsteady. "For two weeks I've been trying to remember when it was that we kissed the last time. I can't remember because I don't keep a count of them. I can't remember." She needs a reason. If he could only give her a reason.

"It was a Monday," he replies. Thorin runs his tongue along the inside of his teeth. "You were actually running late for class. One of your shoes had disappeared and you were searching for it. Somehow it got behind the couch. I picked it up and handed it to you." At this point he stops to swallow. "So, you threw your hands around my neck and brushed your lips to mine. Really quick. Kind of like a habit."

Trembling, Lorena throws herself in his arms. As if to mirror the memory she brings both her arms around his neck and rises on the tips of her toes. This kiss is to tell him that she does want to be with him. "Let's make it a habit," she whispers.

"Let's," he agrees. Thorin takes he scent in. He's missed this, just holding her. So, he presses his lips to hers once more, because he missed her so damn much.

The hot rush leaves them panting. With great difficulty they move to the settee, entwined fingers and beaming faces. Bilbo spies the scene from behind the wall. It's mostly to make sure everything turns out alright, and if not to shoot Thorin's brains out. Yes, Bilbo loves his cousin this much; to the point where shooting the moron who broke her heart is acceptable behaviour to him. Thankfully there's no need for that now. So Bilbo walks away slowly.

"Did you hear that?" Lorena questions, her head turning sharply around. "The sound of steps," her voice is slightly menacing now. "You heard it too, right?" She knows very well that he did.

Laughing softly at her, Thorin pulls the woman back. "Let it go," he murmurs against her neck. There is something tranquil about feeling his warm breath on her skin, puffs of air, like a sea lapping at the shore.

"I bet that was Bilbo." She can't let it go. "That was my good for nothing cousin and I will kill him for this." She extricates herself from his arms and runs to where she knows she'll find her cousin.

Left on his own, Thorin leans back in his seat. Grey eyes roam aimlessly. The telltale smile on his face lingers even when she's not here to see it. That' good. It's good because Thorin is happy, and she's happy; and they are happy together. So, Thorin smiled. The joy is too much to hold in. For an instant his guard is down.

"If my daughter comers home with tears in her eyes again," Lucius' voice breaks him out of the reverie, "nothing will stop me from pulverising you. You can run, you can hide, but you won't be able to escape me." He is completely serious. The man means every single word that passes his lips.

"Is that a threat?" Thorin knows it is. But it's more than just that. He's dealing with a father here; the parent of a daughter. And that's plain scary. Fathers are not known for being nice, at all. Demons, maybe.

"Oh no," the other man speaks in a soothing manner, yet his eyes glint dangerously. "It's a promise. Break her heart and I will break every bone in your body." Then he smiles like they'd been discussing the weather all along.

"Why risk it?" After all, Thorin works for the man. It's a wonder Lucius hadn't already given him that little speech. But then again he's probably under supervision all the time. His boss knows all the moves he makes. "Why not just warn me away?"

"And you'd actually listen?" Lucius had to appreciate it when Thorin gives a firm shake of his head. "Thought so. Besides, my baby girl loves you. It's only fair I give you a fighting chance." Because Lucius is nothing if not fair. "Don't blow this."

Thorin knows, just knows, that this is the only warning he'll ever get. The next time he makes a false move the bullet will be in his brain. "Wasn't planning to." Yet he won't show he is unnerved. Noise from above them grabs Thorin's attention. "What was that?"

"She did tell you she was going after her cousin," Lucius points out. "You'll learn that my daughter always keep her word. So if she says she's going after her cousin you can be sure he'll be sporting the bruises to prove it."

Never would have Thorin pegged Lorena to be of the violent variety, yet he changes his mind upon hearing a how of pain which is distinctly male. "Was that the cousin?"

"You bet." Lucius wipes at invisible tears. "They grow up so fast. One day they're crawling all over the floor, and the next they're wrestling their cousin to the ground. These children, they really are amazing." Pride tinges his every word. Lucius smiles as another yell came from upstairs. He is probably imaging all the things his daughter is putting her poor cousin through.

One thing is clear to Thorin though; he has gone and got himself into a really delicate situation. One he would hopefully survive. And if he doesn't, he'll actually die happy. The lack of sense bothers him not one bit this time. Thorin listens carefully for any other sound before taking the stairs to the next floor. Lorena is standing in the hall, finger waggling in admonishment. It looks like her cousin has learned an important lesson today, which is never to piss Lorena off. Really, people don't give her enough credit. It's the stature thing and the being a benign looking thing. It confuses people. Not that Lorena minds that. They are easier to surprise and take down this way.

"And if you ever do something like that again, Bilbo, you will count yourself lucky is a few years of hospitalization will fix all the damage I'll do to you." The best part is that Thorin loves her for that.


	10. Spread our Ashes p1

_i_

_The Anduin laps at the banks slowly, tenderly even. It's with a lover's touch that the river washes the blood away, its waters turning the colour of roses. _

_Across the ground bodies lie scattered. Elves and men and dwarves along with goblins and wargs. They are all lifeless, embedded in the soft folds of dewy soil. A heavy price had been paid for a handful of gold and those who remain to suffer are in an even greater number still. The dead are gone, they do not ache like the living. Their mission is over._

_Gandalf touches a hand to the female Halfling's shoulder. She trembles, her eyes spilling tears still. Her fingers clutch the motionless hand of Thorin. It is little Lori, the one who has followed her cousin in his adventure and has won the heart of a stubborn warrior who would never open his eyes again._

_"Come child, it is enough," Gandalf tries to persuade her. "You can do no good here. Let us get you something to warm you up." Upon noticing that she does not move, the wizard bends down and picks her up._

_"He'll never be warm again," she manages to choke out. "I'll never see him again. I'll never hear his voice again. How could he do this to me? To us?" And she cries, because it's the only thing she can possibly do other than wade into the Anduin and allow its current to sweep her away._

_Bilbo tries to comfort her but Lori won't listen. She's so tired and heartbroken and she doesn't want to see anybody right now. She wants to drop to the ground and close her eyes and never wake up. Because dying is easy. And living, well that's a real hell. Dying is easy. That's unfair._

ii

Lorena wakes up with a start. She rubs her eyes and glances at the clock. The digits shine in a hypnotic manner. "It's five o'clock in the freaking morning," she groans. But that's just her luck. She's one of those people who can remember bits and scraps of her former life. And, of course, they are something like nightmares. Because no, she couldn't have been some obscure woman in a small village that didn't get into trouble. She had to be brave and stuff, and get herself in trouble. "Note to self, no more adventures. Ever!"

And back into the mattress she crashes with a huff. Lorena closes her eyes and buries her face into the cool pillow. "This feel so good!" It's better than good. It's awesome and it's distracting. What more could she possibly wish for?

Queasy all of a sudden, she rushes to the bathroom. "You have got to be joking. God, this is not even funny." The coppery taste in her mouth makes her sick. There is something utterly disturbing about being able to remember that she simply gave up on everything and just waited for death to claim her. Part of her wants to rage at that. What kind of stupid person would surrender just like that? She had survived a war and instead of rebuilding, she shuts herself down.

"That's me alright," she says to her reflection in the mirror. For the briefest of moments staring back at her is another woman who wears her face so well. "Go away," Lorena mutters, splashing water all over. "Sod off!"

"Who are you yelling at? It's five o'clock in the morning," her mother's harsh whispers jolt her out of her trance. "Lorena, why are you even awake? Go to sleep."

"Right away, ma'am," she mocks under her breath. Nobody gets her. It's so frustrating. Her mother thrown her a look to which Lorena has the grace to blush. "Sorry."

_iii_

_Thorin gently braid her hair, not speaking. They are in a dark room with straw on the ground. Lori is lost in her own thought and an old song keeps playing in her head. It's some sort of lullaby her mother used to sing when she was a wee child. _

_The female thinks about all sorts of things. She longs to be back home, where the sun shines and the fruit are fragrant. But she doesn't really want to leave Thorin. So home will have to wait a bit. A little more maybe. And anyway she can't make it out of this cell. Waiting for a saviour is all that she can do at this point. And since she doesn't know anything about any of her friends or her cousin, the saving might take a while. _

_Still, she is content enough to sit here and let Thorin braid her hair. _

iv

The wind blows, cold and biting. Lorena scowls at the heavy clouds and hurries along. Her hands are deep in her pockets and the volume of her music of choice high enough for the whole street to her what she's listening to. "It might make you deaf," a friend tells her to which she shrugs. "So what?" she replies. "At least I won't hear all this nonsensical talk around me anymore."

The fact is Lorena hates stupidity. And since too many individuals of the human race are stupid, she hates a great number of her fellow race members. As if to prove her right, she sees a couple of dimwits walking about, swearing as loud as they possibly can. She only hears it because the tracks are changing. "See what I mean? Morons!"

Laughing at that, her friend shakes her head lightly. "You are entirely too harsh with them. We can't all live up to your expectations. It's exhausting. Some of us are not as strong as you."

"Whatever." Lorena crosses the street and turns to face her friend. "Someone had to say this. It might as well be me." She smiles, almost bitterly so.

"Hey, cheer up," her friend encourages. "At least we didn't get blasted into a million tiny pieces when crossing by some drunken idiot who thinks that rules don't apply to him.

Pasting a faux cheery look on her face, Lorena complies to her friend's wishes. "Yay, I'm so happy," she utters unenthusiastically.

And in the crowd, a tall form stands out. Lorena catches him for just a moment as he disappears taking a corner. Her head snaps into movement, neck twisting to follow a lingering shadow. That man, he looked exactly like the man in her memories.

* * *

_**A/N: Special dedication to LianaDare8 who pretty much requested I do a reincarnation piece where the two souls actually remember their past lives. So, here goes the first part. Will be continued...**_


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